A couple pills, a couple truths
by Right mistakes
Summary: It was one of those mornings, you know? You wake up, go through your routine, insult your mother... and notice there's something off with your dog-dad-former baby daddy-best friend. And you two spend some time together, and talk, and have brunch - pretty wholesome, if it wasn't for the self-hatred and reality in general hitting Stewie and Brian. Brewie? Sure, I guess. Hehe.


**I kinda had a manic episode after finding out what Brewie was – yes, one of those machine thingies to make your own beer. Like, we know you hate your dad, Herbtolomew, but you're becoming him, just that instead of watching the game having some buds you watch 24/7 streams of barbershops while you drink your own barley dumpster water.**

 **No but for real I didn't know this was an actual thing and I tend to get obsessed over things that seem stupid enough to make sense, so I got a new account only for this and bam, baby.**

 **Anyway this is my therapy. If I don't make your emotional peepee at least a little hard I'll give you my address so you can come slap me in person.**

* * *

It was your average Saturday morning at the Griffin household; picture a wide shot of the kitchen with every family member sitting at the table, having whatever Lois had prepared for breakfast while they went over what they were planning on doing and the rest pretended to care about what they heard. It seemed common for the most part; Peter wasn't even involved in any absurd shenanigans so far. Perhaps it was the one day they could live normally? That seemed like asking too much, but hey, wishful thinking costs nothing.

From his high chair Stewie could observe his siblings, his parents, and his former baby daddy munching away idly. All of them except for the latter, who was slumped over his plate and his coffee mug with his eyes fixated on his phone; the screen wasn't even lit… did he meet ' _the one'_ on a dating app again and she turned him down? Maybe he found videos of dogs being euthanized? Did he run out of lives in Candy Crush? The baby was curious, and the chewing sounds in stereo were starting to irritate him; what was the canine up to?

"So, Brian, waiting for an important call? From your publisher, maybe? That book- that autobiography that you've working on is finally done, ready for release? The one you stayed up late for, reminiscing about the odyssey that is your life, typing away so many nights, to-?" All he got from the dog was a hard to read side glance; he wasn't angry or sad, which meant his sarcastic quips weren't landing and surely another stranger on the Internet hadn't refused to go out with him. Either that or Brian had gotten too used to those possibilities… no, he seemed bored, tired even; he could see bags forming under the canine's eyes. In any case, he had gotten a reaction from someone else who apparently was listening to the youngest Griffin.

"Why do you have to be such an asshole all the time?" Right, Chris could understand him too, and that had been getting annoying, to say the least. He had been meddling with his monologues and conversations as of late; they should talk about boundaries some time, but right then there was a more important matter at hand: Stewie didn't like to be interrupted.

He gesticulated quickly, directing an annoyed glare at his older brother while pointing at Brian and himself several times before saying "this. See this? This is our dynamic. You're not part of it so stay out." He was protective and he was right, even if the dog didn't reply, the exchange was exclusively between the tyke and the canine.

"You're a weird gay baby obsessed with him and he's poured half a bottle of bourbon into his mug and is ignoring you; yes, that's a great dynamic." Okay. Okay, wow. That was uncalled for; he wasn't about to take shit from the second weakest link in the family after Meg, and he had no right to question their actions or whatever feelings the baby could have for anyone. What, was he mad because Stewie had refused to kiss him again after their vaping debacle? Please, the child couldn't afford to lower his standards so much. He showcased a menacing smirk and tilted his head before responding to the blond teenager; surprisingly, for once the chubster had bitten more than he could swallow.

"My, isn't that rich?! Look at you, a slap on your forehead away from receiving disability benefits and here you are, trying to humiliate a dog and a baby! The same baby that, by the way, had to act as your screenwriter so you could escape bullying and afterward you kept trapped in your backpack for weeks because you're too stupid to speak your own words. Are you proud of yourself? Huh?" Stewie stood up and took a few steps on the table until he was face to face with Chris, his eyes focused on his brother's, who was starting to regret opening his mouth at all. "I know you use my stuffed toys to please yourself, Chris. I could tell Lois if what you're after is humiliation, in fact, I have a mental list of everything you do when you think no one is around – you shouldn't assume you're alone just because the rest of the house is silent, and I know you're not smart enough to clean up all the evidence. And even if you were, I have video proof of you raping Mr. Octopus to use in court if he decided to take actions against you. Wouldn't it be fun if you were accused of sexually harassing your baby brother? I could make that happen! A little video editing, audio mixing, some tears while I tell the judge that you touch me in my special zone when mom isn't around… last time you were chemically castrated you were more tolerable. Shall we do that again?"

Stewie's monologue made Brian's ears perk up. It seemed it helped him brighten up some; he wasn't going to do anything about it, though. He had his own quarrels with the blond teenager, and it was pretty entertaining to watch; he hadn't seen that Stewie in a while, so he kept sipping his coffee and observing in silence as Chris's face scrunched and twisted in painful cringe.

"Now, since you can understand me, try to get the following words through your head; it's only four so you should be able to remember them:" His until then sarcastically cheerful tone shifted drastically, being replaced by a completely serious one. "Don't. Fuck. With. Me." He let them linger in the air for a while, not breaking eye contact with the middle sibling until the pressure made the latter look away in shame and fear, muttering "you fucking psycho" under his breath. Babies sure could be a handful, huh?

Stewie finished with a neutral "good" and a curt nod before going back to his high chair, turning his head for a moment to make sure Chris was still repenting for his mistakes. The tension he created stayed solely in that corner of the table, which everyone but Brian ignored and the teenager left shortly after, claiming he had somewhere to be. Lois asked about his plans, but Peter took it upon himself to respond with something along the lines of "that hockey baseball coach rape thing." You can forget about that 'living normally for a day' thing now, their usual bullshit routine was at full throttle.

"I didn't know you were going back to your evil genius persona." Brian commented as casually as he could, but he couldn't stop the baby from noticing his voice sounded sluggish and a bit deeper than usual. Those were worries for later, though; he had something to clear up.

"I'm not, the whole 'evil' thing is too early 2000's. Now I'm like a house centipede, Bri. I bite when provoked." He was calm once again and… that didn't sound as cool as he thought it would in his head, but it seemed to get the point across. Brian let out a couple throaty chuckle-like hums and offered the tyke a barely noticeable smile as he leaned closer to whisper something in his ear.

"That sounds really weird, but I liked what you did there a lot." That wasn't a very Brian thing to do. At all. However, Stewie wouldn't complain; the canine's tranquil baritone sound and feeling his warm breath so close caused a ticklish sensation to traverse all the way from his nape to his lower back… and lower front. If he had any arm hair it'd be standing on end. The infant didn't know how to reply properly, and it wasn't usual for him to be at a loss for words; still, instead of feeling uncomfortable or weirded out, a mix of pride and comfort washed over him, a sensation that spiked when Brian petted his head and said he was a "good little guy."

That was a very out of character thing for Brian to do; usually if he drank in the morning he was grumpy, irritable, depressed and overall insufferable. Acting like a couple of high schoolers that kind of have feelings for each other but don't know too well what to do about it wasn't like the dog… not that Stewie hated it, though, but it was uncommon.

Before he had the chance to inquire any further, Lois stood up claiming they had to go do some inconvenient Saturday grocery shopping hoping to meet another couple they knew and force their way into being invited to an awkward lunch during which both parts would keep talking about their children, coming up with achievements they could brag about until one of the parts gave up while the other celebrated their superiority as parents. Peter refused at first, but after a very, _very_ funny exchange between the manchild and his wife he had no choice but to accept.

Meg said she couldn't come because she already had plans. She was ignored as always, and tried to get the rest's attention by adding something about exploring her sexuality with her friends. Once again, no reaction, so she felt compelled to insist with more graphic details until a clearly uninterested Lois told her that they had heard her, and that she ought to wash herself after playing in the dumpster behind the sushi restaurant, which prompted the teen to storm out repressing the same feelings she had gotten so used to hide. Oh, the hilarity that ensued. It really make viewer go 'haha.'

In any case, the Griffin matriarch intended to take Stewie with her, but the baby had several reasonable motives to not want to be included in her shopping trip. "Are you going to use me to steal things again? Last time you stuffed my diaper with makeup and told me to stay quiet. When the alarm went off and the cashier figured out what you did you called her a child molester and got her fired." Of course, Lois didn't understand what he said, but that didn't stop him from continuing. "It wasn't even good makeup, it was store brand. Why- why would you do that? You don't wear makeup! And you didn't even let me keep the bottle of foundation… it was the perfect size-"

"My my, isn't someone grumpy this morning?" The redheaded woman paid no mind to the child's angry monologue – or as she perceived it, incoherent babbles, and went to pick him up. However, Brian had been listening to Stewie, and once again he did something that wasn't common to his character; he interjected in favor of the baby.

"Lois, why don't you and Peter go and have a day? I can take care of Stewie." This caught the tyke completely off-guard. Using past events as reference, the kid tried to find the reason behind Brian's behavior. Many of the times Brian had offered himself to take care of the child came to be because one of the two had some ulterior motives, but now… he couldn't find any! No adventure in sight, no altered timeline to fix, no enemy to annihilate. It seemed so strange. A part of Stewie wanted to accept it as it was, but surely there'd had to be something else going on; Brian wasn't so selfless by nature. Perhaps he wanted a favor from Lois?

"Are you sure? You really wanna spend your weekend taking care of a baby?" The woman replied unsure, prompting a mental 'okay, fuck you too' from the aforementioned child. But Brian was sure.

"Yeah, I don't mind. I have some experience by now, and besides, my weekdays and my weekends aren't too different." That bit of sincerity was highly unusual as well. Did he have another brain tumor or what? "We'll be fine, we can watch the Paw Patrol or something; did you know they're a great representation of the dog community?"

Lois ignored that last comment and decided to take advantage of the opportunity presented before her; a Saturday without kids? She couldn't say no. She abandoned the kitchen rapidly exclaiming she could wear her good clothes because she wouldn't have to clean baby vomit off of them. And just like that, while the rest were getting ready to leave, for better or for worse, the baby and the dog were left alone.

'Now, what the hell is wrong with you?' Stewie wondered, looking at his furry companion trying to get an answer to his doubts. His interest had peaked, and he was definitely going to find out what was going on in the canine's head. The tyke rested his chin on the back of his entwined hands and began thinking, observing closely in case there were any clues he was ignoring.

'He's… strangely approachable now. He's gone from apathetic to invested in a matter of seconds. Look at him, eating pieces of his omelet with his paws – _okay, that's cute_ , but not what I want. Let's see… if it were a woman I'd know; please, I always do. Lois isn't his objective, is she? He only spoke up when I complained, and he sounded sexier when he was talking to me – wait, can I call him " _sexy_ "? Well, to be fair I'm just thinking, he can't hear me… no, maybe a job? _Now I'm being delusional_. Money from dead wife? Someone retweeted something he posted? He hunted a bird? Look at him, gulping that coffee; _who's a thirsty boy-_ oh for fuck's sake, concentrate!'

Brian noticed Stewie's eyes on him and he offered the baby a playful wave and a closed-lips, mouth-full smile. The baby unconsciously reciprocated the action before catching himself and going back to analyzing the canine's behavior.

' ** _That_** is not a Brian thing! He doesn't wave! If anything he'd spit out a dry "what?" or would tell me to stop, but no – maybe, just maybe… he's realized how awesome I am after the lashing I gave Chris? Does he- does he have a crush on me?! It's… I'm not saying we're going back to that, but… maybe he's realized I'm an alpha and now he owes me submission and wants me to mount –' He had to stop himself there; his analysis was being tainted by strange wishful thoughts. 'And I said I'm less homosexual than I was… yes, like hell I am.' Well, admitting it is the first step… or one of them at least. But that wasn't about him, it was about Brian.

'Okay, you're a man of science. Think, Stewart, think - his body language looks fine, no tense shoulders, no scratching or looking around, his tail isn't moving. An ear twitches from time to time but I don't know what that means. Booze doesn't do that to him, he's too coherent and doesn't smell of weed…' Right then Brian unlocked his phone, but instead of holding it he left it on the table and lazily dragged his finger across the screen; Stewie peeked from his seat, hoping to find some sort of dating app open or perhaps Internet tabs anyone his age shouldn't even know existed, but instead he saw… drawings? The dog was looking at drawings of stylized characters wearing baggy clothes which, if anything, confused the infant even more. It seemed like too sudden of a change to be an acquired or developed demeanor. All the while, the canine had this expression on his face… how could he put it… he seemed neutral but not as he always did; his half-lidded eyes weren't indicators of how jaded he was anymore, but instead he almost looked curious, as if he was optimistically waiting for life to surprise him, and the corners of his lips were resting in an inverted position, as if they were drawing a natural smile under his snout.

Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with Brian but everything seemed so… different. Was that something that had been brewing before Stewie noticed? Either that or the baby's mind wasn't completely clear after waking up. Should he drop it altogether? Maybe he was just seeing things he wanted to see, maybe Brian just wanted to spend some time with him – that wasn't abnormal per se, but everything else... god, Stewie liked it, he wanted to enjoy it, but there had to be more to it. It just **_had to_**! The dog wasn't feeling better about life just because.

No, it never was so easy.

The tyke thought of asking him directly, but every approach that came to mind seemed like a complaint, and seeing Brian happy with himself and not acting pompous about it was a beautiful thing. And also a red flag.

He looked around the kitchen in an almost desperate manner trying to find any clue or idea. Pictures, ingredients, appliances… nothing extraordinary – that was until his eyes met the cabinet where Lois kept her spices. Usually it was a barren wasteland, but lately he had noticed her crouching and meddling with something in there more often, yet still everything she cooked was a flavorless gunk.

There was no loss in taking a look; he hopped off his high chair, getting a low 'athletic baby' from Brian, which he did his best to ignore but definitely enjoyed and opened the small door. There he found a rat trap next to several empty pepper shakers that made Stewie's opinion of his mother worsen even more, if that was possible… but there was something else poking out from behind the shakers: one of those small orange bottles that contained pills. The tyke reached inside to grab it. He knew he had seen that one before; he was with Lois the day she got the prescription for those.

It was almost empty, which might have been a good thing if its location wasn't so strange. He looked back at Brian for a moment; the dog was still busy staring at his phone, seemingly oblivious to the kid's actions. Stewie began putting the scattered pieces of the puzzle together, and he didn't like the picture he was starting to see; he proceeded to look up the name of the pills, its chemical components, and after a little scrolling he discovered… that perhaps Lois truly was a twisted bitch. He'd have loved to take his newfound anger on her directly, but it affected Brian more than anyone else; he'd deal with that wretched whore after making sure his best friend was okay.

Saddest thing was that, deep inside, Stewie wished Brian's change of demeanor was something natural.

* * *

It didn't take long for the family to leave. In Peter and Lois's case, however, right after the woman told the baby "be good, mommy loves you," the child responded with an insult that began before they crossed the door and kept on going long after hearing the family car leave their property. It wasn't until he took a deep breath and a moment to calm down that it felt like Brian and he were truly alone. God, the nerve on that bitch.

He had been trying to come up with ways to tell Brian what was going on, but no matter how much he padded the news, they still sounded horrible. And they were, sure, but one thing Stewie wasn't good at was telling hard truths; he could lie, act, pretend… but honesty felt like the toughest foe.

His mood shifted quite a little when he found his favorite dog lying on the couch, as he later learnt, waiting for him. The canine had his head resting on the middle cushion and the rest of his body between that same one and the one to the left. It was a weird sight; most of the times the baby had found Brian in a similar position he wasn't patting the sofa inviting him to join nor he had his tongue hanging out through the dumbest of smiles looking forward to watch cartoons with him. Usually he was complaining about something or someone, or his humor had turned so sour it almost became contagious, with everyone that came in contact with him ending up harboring similar feelings.

What could Stewie do? He liked the sight, but knowing what he knew… it didn't feel right, yet at the same time it did! It was so confusing. Did Brian really want to do that? Was it like that saying about drunken people doing what they were willing to but too scared to do when they're sober? It felt more like something Stewie wanted, and while his morals were widely loose, when it came to Brian his compass straightened. At least whilst the canine's conscience was altered.

"Stewie, what'cha waiting for?" The dog's voice calling his name took him out of the dichotomous trance he was in. It was the moment of truth, he had to act, and with no more time to ponder, the thought that resonated the most within his mind prevailed. 'Well, we're only going to watch TV. Nothing wrong with that, I can tell him later.'

He sure could.

He climbed onto the couch and sat in the spot Brian had reserved for him. The moment he did, the furry intellectual crawled in his direction and let his head fall onto the child's lap, making a noise that could only be described as a sped up sigh that came out of his nose. Suddenly, Stewie's neck muscles tensed up.

'Okay. Okay, this is weird but still fine.' Normal dogs did that too, right? It wasn't that bad. He'd survive. 'God, he's so warm. I can feel his heartbeat on my leg!'

"Stew-wie," Brian called his name once again, this time in a dangerously playful manner. He couldn't see his expression since he was facing the TV, but the child could imagine it wasn't too different from the one he had been seeing that morning. "Pet?"

"…what?" That wasn't a full sentence! That was… what was that?

"Can you please pet me?" Stewie heard him loud and clear, but still felt compelled to ask him to repeat himself because, given their usual boundaries, it was surreal; the canine obliged, but this time adding if the baby didn't want to.

'I **_fantasize_** about petting you, you beautiful idiot!' A rush of thoughts went through Stewie's head, rapidly reminiscing about everything the duo had been through, trying to find a clear answer to his doubts. Should he do it? Was anything wrong with that? Brian had never been so submissive, so willing to behave like a normal dog… was that what the canine wanted? The idea of spending time alone with the baby was his. Did he have any further plans? What would it mean if Stewie agreed?

Oops, it seemed the child had trapped himself in his own thoughts once again. This time, however, his conscience made things easier for him; among the cluster of questions crossing his mind, one voice he hated to hear let him know what the situation was.

 _'Hey, dumbass, here's the thing; you either tell him he's been drugged right now, or you play along. That's it, he's not asking you to fuck him. Besides, you stole his DNA and got yourself pregnant against his will; **now** you're having second thoughts? Please, you know what you want.'_

Stewie didn't like to admit it, but that unfiltered, crude voice was right, and if those were his only options… he'd give in. He'd give in without thinking anymore. He'd enjoy this opportunity to be happy, even if at its core it was all fake. His whole persona was fake as well, what did it matter anyway?

"…of course I wanna pet you; I always do, you silly dog. But you caught me by surprise."

What ensued was a heavy session of petting, with Stewie letting his little hands roam free all over the canine's body, brushing the soft white fur and feeling that warm flesh against his own. He had wanted to do that ever since he came out of the womb, and boy, did he have some love to give.

At first Brian's only communication was a series of short, high-pitched, throaty staccato breaths, and it looked like things couldn't get better than that, but Stewie was only getting started. After erratically massaging the canine's side until his palms went numb, the child used his left hand to scratch Brian behind his ears, making one of his legs move involuntarily; slowly in the beginning, as he delighted his sense of touch in the velvety sensation his furry friend had to offer, and progressively faster as Stewie advanced towards a flurry of quick comb-like scratches that made the dog shake so wildly the entire couch trembled with them.

Stewie paused for an instant, giving Brian time to notice that he was panting unrestrainedly and to turn around and find the smiling child looking right at him. The dog's first reaction? Throwing his head upwards in a futile attempt to reach the child with his snout. But that was all the rest he had.

The kid continued scratching the top of the canine's head with one hand and drawing a trail that started at the dog's neck and finished at the base of his wagging tail with the other, feeling the bones, muscles and fat hidden underneath. His fingers traveled that path time, and time, and time again… he could draw a perfect diagram of the dog's back if he wanted, although to him the canine was becoming the most comforting stuffed toy he had ever played with.

Needless to say, Stewie wasn't the only one having fun; the more precise contact coming from the baby was both exciting and relaxing to Brian, so much so a few moans found a way to escape his throat. The child either ignored them or didn't hear them, because he didn't stop at any point. Or perhaps he had heard them and had his own way of responding accordingly; in fact, the outline of his dorsum and hips the smaller hand had been working so carefully on was expanding, becoming more daring, at times going past his tail and reaching his rear and thighs. Brian didn't really know what to make of that, but he… didn't hate it.

The canine felt like he should respond to the affection he was receiving somehow; his first reaction was extending his arms, but in his current position his hands went past Stewie's legs and reached the end of the couch. No, that wasn't enough.

He rapidly propped himself up, kneeling next to the kid and consequentially bringing their contact to a halt. For an instant both of them paused completely and their gazes met; both reflected the same joy, the same bliss… even their expressions matched, twin genuine and warm smiles a few inches from each other.

With that sight before him, Brian realized there was a burning question he didn't even know he wanted to ask. As his respiration normalized and Stewie's hands began to shy away from his body, he mustered the courage he needed in case the response he got wasn't the one he unconsciously was expecting. He gulped audibly, and right after taking a deep breath, he was ready. His preparation had begun to concern the child, but it was time…

"Hey, Stewie…"

"…yes, Brian?" Now it was the boy's breath the erratic one. So many thoughts wanted to visit his brain at the same time that his mind had gone blank altogether. Whatever the dog wanted he'd give him, no matter what it was.

"Am I… am I a good boy?"

That was it? Stewie didn't have to think the answer to that question. He couldn't avoid letting out a couple of hysteric chuckles before cheerfully replying "Yes you are, Bri. You're the goodest boy!"

And that was exactly what the canine wanted to hear. He threw caution to the wind and lunged forward, wrapping the baby in his arms and embracing him tight, and before the human could let his subconscious act and hug him back, Brian began licking his cheeks as if they were made of the sweetest candy. The wet, warm and ticklish sensation that surprised the boy allowed him only to exclaim "oh!" in an unceremoniously manner as he threw his arms forward, unsure if he wanted the dog to stop or to properly hug him.

Somehow, someway, the smaller hands found each other behind the furrier of the two, and by then Brian's licks were subsiding, but his now more limited array of movements wouldn't stop him from showing Stewie that he too thought the human was a good boy. He proceeded to nuzzle the child's neck and cheeks, adding to the previous exciting sensation a more comforting one, a different type of warmth, one that wasn't limited to the external part of his body. One that felt… _necessary._ Something he didn't know he had been longing for, something that grew as the dog's neck movements came to a full stop and their heads rested on the other's shoulder. Something that reached its apex when Brian whispered "I love you, Stewie."

He couldn't know for sure, but if what he had heard here and there was true, the child just had an orgasm. It didn't have much to do with his genitals, but his whole body felt like bursting in delight, in a kind of happiness he didn't know existed. His brain was swimming in all sorts of emotions; some harmonized with each other, some clashed, some he couldn't even understand… he felt his eyes watering and in his current state he was unable to make it stop. He didn't know how to act, everything was numb but at the same time he had never felt such a powerful stimulus.

He did his best to keep his composure and reply with a shaky but completely sincere "I love you too, Brian." And he did, he truly did; those words had never been so meaningful to him. If anything, he had finally started to understand his feelings for the canine. He was wrong, and he was right… there were many layers to what Brian was to him, but before he could go through them one by one, the dog noticed the warm wetness on his fur and pulled away to look at Stewie's face. What he saw worried him, and the moment he asked the child if there was anything wrong the floodgates opened completely.

The rupture of their embrace helped the infant go back to reality, realizing what he had to live with from that moment on. But even if he couldn't stop his tears, Stewie was okay. He meant it, he really meant it; he just had too much to digest at the same time, but that didn't mean there was anything wrong.

After hearing and trusting the child's response, Brian hugged him once again, but the meaning behind his actions was different this time. Now it didn't only mean 'I love you' or 'I care about you.' No, he was letting Stewie know he was there for him, allowing the infant's head to rest on his chest as he trembled and sniffled attempting to calm down. He rubbed the smaller back hoping to comfort the child, an effort that culminated when the canine kissed his head. It took some more time, but Stewie eventually settled down, at least on the outside.

Brian didn't say anything, at the time he felt there was nothing to be said on his part; however, Stewie did have something to say.

"Brian… thank you."

And then, the canine knew there was only one thing he could add.

"Anytime."

As they were going back to normality, the same voice that convinced Stewie to do what provoked what had just happened in the first place visited him again.

 _'Don't forget what caused this; you know he might not be aware of what he's doing at all. You're gonna have to tell him whether you want to or not.'_

The child clenched his jaw; he hadn't forgotten about it. No, not at all. In fact, he was almost thankful; without those pills the exchange they just had wouldn't have happened. Now, what he thought was the equivalent of raping someone who had been drinking until passing out had turned into a new question; were those the pills that made Brian let go of what he repressed, or were they making him act more impulsively, ignoring any imaginable consequence? There was a chance the canine and Stewie had different interpretations of what had happened, and depending on the answer he might get, regret could set in for a while, but he was ready to face that. Also, he wondered what Brian thought about the whole thing… the tyke didn't have much experience petting.

Still, they had time; at the moment what they wanted to do the most was bask in the afterglow of what had become a really revealing experience, which to any outsider would have looked like nothing but a cute scene of a baby playing with a dog. Too bad they weren't just an ordinary baby and an ordinary dog.

* * *

Some time went by, during which the older of the two seemed to go into full caretaker mode, asking the child every now and again if he needed anything or if he wanted a snack and getting negative responses every time. The atmosphere felt cozy, and even though there was some underlying awkwardness and insecure thoughts due to the previous events, the duo was at peace, idly watching TV or at least pretending to, with the tyke leaning to the side just a bit so his head brushed against the canine's fur. He wasn't too sure of what to do with himself, and in spite of the other questions roaming his mind, he was curious about just what Brian and him were; it wasn't something that ever went well when asked aloud, and even though he had a more clear idea of what the dog was to him, he wondered… what was he exactly to Brian?

Should he consider their 'encounter' as the equivalent of a hookup? Knowing the canine was okay with those wasn't too encouraging. However, Stewie wasn't a stranger he had met online or at a bar; that had to count for something. All those thoughts… they didn't feel as organic as one could perceive them to be, but more of an excuse to procrastinate, to avoid tackling the metaphorical elephant he had found hidden in the kitchen cabinet.

Coincidentally, Brian seemed to notice something; the kid hadn't done anything to particularly hide his distraction, and as far as he knew, attention wasn't an issue for Stewie. Who was he to talk, though? Own problems aside, Brian was aware of how the baby had reacted previously and now his original "I'm okay" didn't feel as sincere. Welp, even if he was risking entering a mind that at times he couldn't comprehend all that well, he had to ask – hell, he wanted to ask.

"Stewie, how are you feeling?" The child shook his head almost spasmodically when he heard that deep voice calling his name. Man, he was too lost in his own thoughts.

"Pretty fine, Bri."

"You sure? You seem out of it."

"Do I?" Wait, was that conversation supposed to go that way?

"Yeah, a little. You're usually more talkative than this and your neck isn't all stiff. Is there anything wrong?" Sure, some other times when they were alone they talked about things they wouldn't even mention to others, but… no, hold on; if Brian was able to notice his nervousness he couldn't be too far gone.

Stewie shifted his position to take a better look at the attentive canine. Something about him felt more like the Brian he was used to, and if he had a clear mind, he could surely offer him a hot take on what happened before. Oddly enough, it was the canine who sounded worried now. His question wasn't just a protocol-like "hey, you okay?"

"Nothing wrong, Bri, believe me. But you have to admit, new experiences are bound to leave a mark." The child sounded proud, there was some smugly gladness to his answer, and the dog's concern became more apparent.

"Did I… was it wrong? Shouldn't I…?" Brian couldn't find the words to formulate the right question, but it wasn't necessary, Stewie understood right away.

"No! God, no. I loved it! It just… I wasn't expecting it. It was a happy surprise, let me tell you."

That was all the dog needed to hear. What he did with Stewie was something he couldn't explain; he wanted to spend some time with his best friend, and in the middle of a clouded mind, the idea of bonding with him was shining through like a lantern at the start of a Scooby-Doo episode, when whatever mansion the gang enters is completely dark. He had thought of how to go about it, but when the moment of truth came, he felt the impulse to get pets. Why? That he couldn't say; maybe because words alone don't usually work for the duo, or perhaps because he knew Stewie liked him for his canine nature as well and could indulge the kid. And while the original impulse was gone, he wanted **_that_** , that sensation, the feeling that came after… and if the baby's reaction was any indication, he wanted it as well.

It was risky because he couldn't really tell how the tyke would react, but he was happy with the outcome.

"And you, Brian? Are you alright?" His ear was still twitching, and Stewie could see his tail still wagging. Had it ever stopped? At one point its brushing against the couch became white noise… and without realizing it, he had gotten the ball rolling.

"Yeah, I'm not too bad either. Just got a massage, you know?" The relaxed ambiance was still present, and if none of them had regrets, it was better to keep going. Stewie couldn't help but smiling at the quip.

"Oh, I do. But are you sure you're okay? I think it's you who's been acting differently this morning." Okay, little by little.

"Well, I didn't sleep too well last night, but I'm fine." That was a clue. Good, baby steps.

"Nothing else out of the ordinary? I mean, you don't usually beg for pets." The dog raised an eyebrow and showcased a somewhat malicious smirk; if that's what that was about, he'd bite.

"I wanted pets." He sounded secure, which froze Stewie for a second. Not that it was a bad thing, but he wasn't expecting that. Alright then, their relationship starting to have a more discernable shape didn't mean their dynamic had to change; he knew what to resort to.

"That's it? Come on, didn't you have a little drinky drinky with your coffee?"

"What, you think I have to be drunk to want to spend time with you?" That question confirmed what the child suspected; Brian did want to hang out with him. The dog didn't need an answer; the baby just shrugged as he offered a playful confused expression, letting the canine continue. "Besides, I made that coffee myself. I only add whisky whenever Lois makes dirt water; it has to taste like something."

Who was this Brian?! Was he really talking shit about Lois? Where had he been all Stewie's life?

"I never hoped to see the day you'd be talking badly about her!" The kid was giddy with excitement and he had no reason to hide it. Brian knew his crush on his owner was well known by the child; he had been mocked for it countless times, but something had changed. It didn't change long ago, but it happened.

"You see, Stewie, infatuations come and go." The canine paused and his voice turned a bit more, let's say, dramatic. So much so the movement of his tail came to a halt. "You start realizing that the feelings you thought you had aren't… aren't all that real. That you've been fooling yourself, chasing delusions, giving importance to something that didn't deserve it."

Stewie couldn't tell if the dog was referring to himself or the human, because it was absurd how much he could relate to those words. He had to make sure, just in case those were the prelude to news that affected the tyke personally. That wasn't the regret he feared, was it?

"You mean… you?"

"Yes. It's pathetic that I'm realizing so late, but… I don't know. I was separated from my mother when I was a puppy, and when I was little Lois wasn't like she is now. Guess we all change with age, huh?" All Stewie could do was nod, he could tell Brian wasn't done. "I… think I had my feelings mixed. Lois didn't mind me seeing her nude when they didn't know I could talk, that I had more of a human conscience, and maybe, I got confused?"

This time he was asking an actual question. While the baby was slightly repulsed by the mental image, he understood fairly well where Brian was coming from, and there was some foundation to his thought process. If that's how he felt about Lois, then…

"You confused romantic love with familiarity?"

"You could say that, yeah." The dog seemed devastated after admitting that, and Stewie unconsciously began to rub his shoulder trying to comfort him. Oh, if only Brian knew – well, the child was sure he had an idea of what he felt; until recently his subtlety hadn't been as measured, and Brian wasn't stupid. In any case, it wasn't a good thing to have in common, really, but sharing that kind of information was something that took a lot of trust, and they could find something positive in that.

Stewie's attempts at lifting his favorite dog's mood weren't in vain; without any warning but a quick glance at the child, the furrier of the two picked him up and sat him on his lap. The kid didn't have any time to react; Brian was hugging him from behind, paws entwined over his belly, and the first thing he did when Stewie tried to turn his head to face the canine was apologize.

"I shouldn't have said that, I'm sorry." The child didn't understand.

"What for?" Unless Brian had used Lois deliberately as an allegory to tell Stewie his feelings were wrong, he had nothing to apologize for, and even reading that much between the lines was an extreme reach.

"Killing the mood." That was it?

"You've done no such thing, pup." In his current position, Stewie could run his hands all over the larger arms, and so he did. Being held like that was so… so nice. There was no other way to put it. Even if Brian was – or had been – reticent to hugs, he wasn't bad at giving them, and his lap was leagues above anything else his rump had ever been on. He sure was the goodest boy.

Brian responded nuzzling Stewie's neck before letting his head rest on the smaller shoulder, making sure the weight wasn't too much for the tyke. In the moment of enjoyable silence they shared, what had kept the child so tense all morning showed its ugly mug once again.

Well, since Brian had brought up the topic of Lois and killing the mood… it seemed like the right time to tell him.

"Bri?"

The canine's only response was a curious hum.

God, Stewie loved the scenery he found himself in so much he couldn't bring himself to risk it, to possibly let it go and realize that it had been a fabrication, but still his conscience was yelling at him. If he didn't say anything perhaps Brian's life would be at risk instead; no choice felt right. However, that thought alone provoked that voice to resurface. He had spent so much time trying to muffle it… why now of all times did it have to show up?

 _'You don't wanna tell him because you're scared he won't do this anymore, huh? Now that you know he loves you, you wanna hold on to that as tight as you can, even if it means killing him. Is that what you wanted? Hearing those words even if you don't know what they mean? Or are you saving him the trouble of thinking and filling in the blanks for him? My, Brian's lucky to have you, ain't he?'_

And why, just why, did he have to be right?!

"Brian, could I… run some tests on you?"

He couldn't see dog's face, but he was sure such a question would raise an eyebrow or two.

"What do you mean?"

How could he put it?

"…you've been feeling different lately, haven't you?"

"I… have, maybe a little. Why?"

"Have you- is it a positive change?"

"…now I don't know anymore, Stewie. What's going on?" The concerned tone of the child was met with a similar one. Perhaps Brian hadn't noticed the scope of his transformation? No, he couldn't possibly be that oblivious… unless the pills stopped him from gauging his actions.

"It's not… natural."

"What do you mean it's not natural?" The dog's worries grew, and he placed the tyke on the floor. Now Stewie was standing in front on a clearly altered Brian; it was hard to tell if there was any of the previous lightheadedness left in the canine, at least all of his attention seemed to be on the baby.

"I think you've been…" Stewie couldn't bring himself to meet the other's eyes. Usually stage fright wasn't something the child had to face, but this time his role carried too much weight for comfort. Anything else he could say without any problems; hell, he wasn't even worried when the dog was diagnosed with a brain tumor. If anything went wrong he could go back in time and fix things, or teach himself how to perform the surgery to remove it. Ever since he learnt about Brian's suicidal thoughts, he had been preparing himself to react to any possible consequence – the branching of the one at hand, though, was harder to predict, harder to solve... if everything else he had to confront could be boiled down to a yes or no question, this was the equivalent of a written report on a subject he was barely able to approach.

He felt like preventing death was easier than this. "…you've been taking antidepressants."

"No I haven't!"

"Yes you have!" Raising his voice wasn't part of the plan, but it was too late; he wasn't in control anymore. "Lois has been putting them in your food."

"What…? That doesn't- since when does she take them?"

"They're wide spectrum antidepressants, they're supposed to work quitting addictions as well. You know she's been drinking like the sad horse from that Netflix show." Brian had noticed that, but he felt it wasn't his call to do anything; he was keen on his booze as well, and while he could a hypocrite at times, her case was beyond him. He wouldn't throw stones at his own glass house. "The doctor gave them to her – they're giving those for everything these days, but you don't have to look too much to find hidden vodka bottles around the house. I found the pills in the kitchen, there were only a few left, and you…" His tirade had been supple until he had to address the dog directly.

"And me?"

"I'm afraid she's taken none, she's been giving the missing ones to you, and I believe they've been affecting you, if this morning's any example."

Brian looked away; he stared at the floor in silence, his paws gripping the couch cushion with increasing strength. Stewie couldn't tell what was going through the canine's mind, and honestly, he couldn't either. Not only because, ironically enough, it was hard to swallow, but because his mind was cloudy again; why would Lois do that? Did she do it on purpose or was it something along the lines of 'I don't want this, I'll give them to the dog'? It would explain quite a few things he had been experiencing as of late, but… fuck, it was so hard to make rational sense of any of that.

Stewie just observed in silence, fiddling with his hands, unsure if he should do something. When he tried to address the dog anew, the canine just lifted one of his palms, indicating him to wait. He then proceeded to rub his temples, attempting to concentrate; the only thing he felt was absolutely certain was his stupidity, the artificially induced one and the one he was born with.

He tried to consider pros and cons, then he compared how he had been feeling lately to how he felt previously, and then… anything that started to appear logical dissipated. One thought that didn't cross his mind was the possibility of Stewie not telling the truth; he didn't even weigh in the hatred the baby harbored for his mother, and while he could be manipulative when he wanted, this was not one of those occasions. It was too contrived. Was contrived even a word? Why was he thinking about that now?

God, the boy was on the verge of tears again.

The canine let out a long, heavy sigh, feeling a sudden tiredness taking over him, and went over the steps he could handle at the moment. He focused his then slightly blurry gaze on Stewie and asked him since when he knew that had been going on. The child replied he noticed during breakfast, told him about the kitchen cabinet and how he felt like he was seeing a Brian he didn't know.

"I do have memory lapses…" He needed a moment. A long moment to suppress the urge to… _do something_. He didn't know what. It was a strange, debilitating and angering feeling. In the end he did nothing.

However, if Stewie was that worried, he had to have a good reason.

"You see, those pills are also used as painkillers, blockers, to help with simple sleep problems, anxiety and all that jazz – but they also are infamous for its many side effects; they range from migraines, insomnia and restless leg syndrome to manic episodes and," The last one was the toughest. "…suicidal thoughts."

The dog didn't react. His expression didn't match what was occurring on the inside, but the baby took the canine's lack of response as a wordless petition to continue.

"The thing is those pills are made for humans; given your physiology they might dumb you down and that's it, in the best of scenarios, but considering how many you've consumed, your normal alcohol intake, your usual mental state, your…" It didn't get any easier. "…struggle with self-esteem and consideration of suicide I'm afraid they could become heavy depressors. The chemicals in your body differ from those of a human adult, you know that – that's why I need to see if there are any imbalances or if they've done any damage beyond repair."

Brian was completely still. He just stared at the tyke, his face neutral yet different from the one he had been showcasing that morning. No tiny smile under his snout, his eyes weren't curious anymore; however, his mind was working a little more effectively. The sudden anger-induced adrenaline rush cleared part of the fog, but underneath there wasn't much aside from red curtains.

After a pause that seemed to last an eternity for Stewie and during which the canine processed what he just heard the best way he could, the older of the two let out a humorless chuckle. The child observed as he lied on his side and began laughing to himself in a more than concerning manner.

"You know me well, huh?" That was not the kind of response Stewie expected from him, but at that point he didn't know what to expect anymore. Really, what made true sense? Out of all the shit they had been through, this situation was quickly becoming the one he'd try to forget the most. But regarding Brian's statement…

"You're my best and only friend, if I didn't know a few things about you, what would that make me?" The pain in the kid's voice was easy to discern, and Brian – he was at a loss.

"…I don't know."

Stewie just stood there, looking at the defeated dog stare into space. He too felt blocked.

He was about to sit on the floor when Brian directed his attention at the boy again. He invited him to join him on the couch, and the baby accepted; it resembled the similar scene from earlier, yet this time it was worse. The pretense for it to happen had nothing to do with the previous, playful one.

As the minor sat down, the dog formulated another question; his voice seemed to lack interest, but the sentiment behind it couldn't be any different.

"Since when do you know about psychology?" One thing Brian got out of their exchange was that Stewie's genius had found another field to play in.

"I've been looking into it recently; my school had this therapist that made it sound interesting." His reply was vague, but it seemed to satisfy the canine. Diving deep into his encounter with Mr. Pritchfield was out of the question, even though in the long run it had proved to be of some use.

Another silent moment went by, and Brian spoke up again.

"Around two weeks ago I spent two days in a row sleeping." This time his voice didn't sound so exhausted; it had some inflection to it, closer to his regular talking tone, but still tormented by his recent discovery. "Then, I spent three awake."

Stewie didn't know what to say, but he didn't have to; Brian dragged himself across the couch until his head reached the baby's lap, as he had done before that day. "I've been avoiding alcohol for a few days now, I think. I don't want to smoke, I've deleted all my text messages, social media, dating apps… and I think I like art now." The baby listened attentively, aware that those actions were surely motivated by the pills, and suddenly feeling an unknown force grabbing his hand and placing it with the utmost care onto Brian's side. He could feel his body moving ever so slightly as he breathed, and the rapid heartbeats coming from the furry ribcage; his first instinct was wanting to make those calm down, but all he could offer at the time was his company – hopefully that'd suffice.

"I… this is foggy, but I think I helped Meg with her literature homework. At one point Peter asked me to join him in something with… alligators?" It seemed the dog was trying to recall what he had done those past few days, either to ground himself or to let Stewie know what being devoid of a proper will was like, but it proved to be a difficult task. "And you and I… have we been hanging out?"

"Not outside the house. If anything I've found you sitting here watching TV or looking at the home screen of your laptop."

"And you told me something about… xylophones?"

"Yes, that my class received a new one and I was the first to play with it."

"Did I say something?"

"Not really; I assumed you didn't care." Stewie didn't think before talking, but it was true. Until that day, whenever he saw the dog he seemed normal, bored if anything else; not that they had the chance to spend much time together anyway, but every so often both of them went through periods during which they didn't feel like talking to anyone – or perhaps they did, but the one they were looking for wasn't available or there at all. In any case, they had stayed neutral.

"I'm sorry… but if you want to tell me about it I'm willing now." The canine felt certain remorse, although a newfound numbness was beginning to take over him.

"No, I should have noticed sooner. I-" Stewie stopped himself, knowing that if he continued going down that route he'd end up turning the whole thing into a battle of apologies, and that wasn't desirable at all. It was bad enough as it was, and it wasn't their fault; he quickly shifted the subject, slowly dragging his tiny fingertips over the canine's side, caressing his delightfully soft skin and deep down wondering if Brian's life would be easier if he was a regular, plain dog – not that he wanted that at all, but he believed simpler creatures suffered less.

"It wasn't that big of a deal. I threw one of the tiles at the teacher, got a sharp C."

"Not bad."

"The C stands for cunt."

Brian chuckled at that; Stewie made him laugh, that was something. More than just something if you consider he had no expectations whatsoever.

"So, what are the results, doc?" The canine asked his improvised therapist, but Stewie couldn't really give him an answer. It was somewhat uplifting seeing that Brian still had some sense of humor left in him – perhaps after a few days avoiding Lois cooking the tyke could help him reconstruct his week, or he could have a quick trip to the recent past and avoid everything from happening at all. Still, seeing his quasi father in that state was desolating; the guilt he felt originally was replaced by a feeling of impotence caused by his inability to help Brian immediately, and he could only imagine what Brian himself was going through at the moment.

It seemed like a more depressing recreation of that time the dog did shrooms… with the difference that in this case it hadn't been something voluntary.

"How are you feeling now?" Stewie asked; he had noticed Brian had calmed down a little, the bloodstream of the dog wasn't as turbulent or so indicated his more relaxed heart rate. As he spoke, Brian's voice had been losing part of that grief that imbued his tone, but he was some steps away from being his usual self.

"Better, I guess? Isn't that what I'm supposed to say?"

"I really want to know, Brian. Do you need something?"

"Wasn't I supposed to take care of you? Why's this the other way around?" Oh well, if he was lucid enough to be sarcastic…

"I don't know, maybe because your owner's been drugging you?" They felt silent for a second, but before Stewie had the time to assume he had fucked up trying to match the dog's humor, the canine replied.

"Remember when she drugged you too?" The boy did, somewhat; he recalled being at some sort of venue that reeked of sweat but not much else. Brian told him about what happened, but his memories weren't to be trusted since he consumed the same drug he did. God, they should be used to be toyed with by bigger people by then.

It seemed the pain from the metaphorical kick in the balls the dog received was finally fading. In fact, Brian stood up by himself and went into the kitchen looking for coffee, with Stewie following closely; one thing he knew he was feeling was tiredness, and he couldn't afford to fall asleep while he was watching the child… sure, that was a good excuse. Instead of using a mug or a glass, the canine grabbed the pot containing the remaining beverage and swallowed the entirety of its contents, making Stewie point out that seemed dangerous in his state – or in any other.

Brian simply signaled at the trash can in the corner; the tyke took a look and found the empty package that was used to make it, guessing what he meant.

"You finished all of it?"

The dog's only explanation was that it was keeping him conscious, and by then it was too late for Stewie to do anything. One more thing to add to his list of worries… and now that he thought about it, such caffeine consumption would render whatever tests he wanted to perform on Brian useless. He could still try and get some hard to read results, but at no point the dog had accepted to go through with his offer.

Suddenly something clicked in the baby's head; Brian said he had brewed that coffee himself and only added alcohol if Lois did a poor job making it…

"Brian, would you know where to place the memories you have of these past weeks? Was it morning, midday, afternoon… when they happened?"

The dog crossed his arms and threw his head backwards, staring at the ceiling with his mouth partly open as he tried to remember. His clearest recollections were of the times he awoke feeling like shit, then some flashes during several afternoons, and not much else.

"So you remember waking up… do you recall going to sleep at all?"

"Not really. Aside from being told I passed out watching TV, until… Thursday, I think? I don't even know where I slept."

The child rubbed his chin in thought and paced back and forth, starting to figure out how the whole situation came to be.

"Were you drinking less by then?"

He received a nod from the canine, and his hypothesis was complete. Both his bedtime and preschool hours followed the occasions Lois was in charge of their meals; if that was when she fed the pills to Brian, Stewie was unable to see him once they took effect.

"Do you remember what you did yesterday?"

"Yeah, I tried to write for most of the day, but somehow I ended up reading instead."

"How sure are you of those memories?"

Brian could hear the gears in the child's head turning; they were so loud he could even discern what they were working on.

"You think I remember yesterday but not any other day because I didn't drink." It wasn't a question, he assumed that was what Stewie was hinting at, proudly so if you could notice the half-smirk his mouth drew; and he wasn't wrong.

"While the effect of the pills is still present, they're not being accentuated by anything. Brian, you might have truncated Lois's system by brewing your own coffee!" He had found the positive in what seemed like a Where's Waldo of negatives; and while 'positive' might have been a little too generous of a statement, it had helped him notice the state the canine was in.

However, what the older picked up was that Lois hadn't been acting randomly, that she was aware of the dog's routine and had been medicating him against his will deliberately. Oddly enough, he didn't feel anger, or sadness, or confusion – no, he felt a strange sense of relief. He had his own dots to connect; she didn't let him sleep in the same room as Peter and her anymore, and the only times they exchanged words were when one wanted something from the other.

'Guess we aren't as cute when we grow up, huh?'

Stewie continued, adding that maybe that morning she couldn't give any more to the canine and then proceeding to ask the older if he was really conscious and aware of his surroundings at the moment, and he was, but Brian didn't care anymore; what was done, was done.

Since they were there, the baby thought about showing him the cause of his malady. However, the dog refused to even look at the bottle; he told Stewie to leave it somewhere visible, claiming he'd take care of Lois when she came back – or at least he'd try. Needless to say the baby exclaimed he'd support him. Then he wanted to ask Brian what physical symptoms he was experiencing, but stopped himself when he noticed the dog's eyes fixated solely on him; by itself that wouldn't be too bad, but what he saw told him he didn't want to discuss the subject anymore.

Shiny eyes that struggled to stay open, sonorous and short breaths that tried and failed to stay stable, a forced smile that was seconds away from disappearing topping a quivering lower lip and trembling jaw; shoulders ascending and descending in sync with his respiration, paws that extended and clenched repeatedly, and overall, a Brian so broken Stewie nearly couldn't recognize him. No cool façade, no attempts at being distant, no excuses for his demeanor – just his pal, the one he really was, the only he had ever been.

The tyke's first reaction was of course approaching the pooch, covering the distance that separated them in an instant and hugging him with all the strength he could muster. A moment later the dog had given up on holding it back and given in to Stewie, sobbing through clenched teeth as the child muttered comforting words, reciprocating the embrace the baby offered.

If you asked him why he was crying, he probably wouldn't answer; if he asked himself, he wouldn't either, because he didn't know. Did he feel betrayed? Was he thankful to Stewie? Was he scared to even live there anymore? Perhaps it was a mood swing caused by the pills? Who knows, he wouldn't explain it – the same way he wouldn't explain why he lifted Stewie up to eye level, or why the look on that face he had grown to love and feared to miss was so close to his, or why he started kissing and licking the boy as desperately as he did, or why he kept apologizing and thanking him the moment he stopped to catch his breath, receiving various soothing "it's okay" as an answer.

He wouldn't explain why he did that to you. He would to Stewie, but the infant already knew very well why. He had been there too.

It gets better.

* * *

While sitting on the kitchen floor after calming down and talking about any pointless thing that came to mind seemed like a good idea at first, eventually their bottoms started getting cold and sore. Stewie proposed changing their location and Brian suggested the baby's room, originally stating he'd feel more comfortable there since it felt like it was his, and then correcting himself by saying it was the one place in the house that made him feel welcome anymore.

Stewie agreed without hesitation, and the way the canine referred to his dominions was pretty flattering, but there was something off about that; while those antidepressants had sedative effects, they would more likely turn someone into a silent robot than make them express themselves with such honesty it'd shock anyone that heard them, and if anything all the coffee the dog consumed would make him… a more shaky slave? The child couldn't tell for sure; he knew quite a bit about chemistry, but there were some structural combinations he never bothered to research.

As they were about to walk up the stairs, Brian asked the child if he could hold his paw since his legs were too shaky to be trusted, and as you can imagine, the tyke accepted, but not without considering what could be making the dog act so un-Brian-like. He assumed the rollercoaster of emotions that morning had become would have tired the older – at least it was leaving a mark on Stewie. However, if Brian was more lucid, wouldn't that mean he'd act more like himself? One would go back to shield himself after a discovery like your owner practically poisoning you. The child had seen the dog go through trauma before, and after the main hit, he always used the same defense mechanisms…

Hey, researching psychology was paying off!

Slowly but surely they reached Stewie's room; there Brian took a seat on the baby's crib while the one that regularly slept in it racked the most clinical side of his brain trying to find an answer that made sense. Being in the same space Stewie kept his many inventions hidden away reminded the dog of something.

"Didn't you want to run some tests on me or something?"

Now that was a funny coincidence; as far as he knew, being able to read minds wasn't a side effect of those pills. Abuse could lead to long-term damage and memory issues, but not psychic powers.

In any case, Stewie didn't believe it was the right time to perform those – adding medical procedures to their already stressing day would be overdoing it.

"Don't worry about that, Bri. We can take care of those some other time."

The dog took the answer as it came and responded back with the tiniest of smiles. He looked around the familiar room, not really looking for anything; mostly he was testing his senses, and while he couldn't see colors because of natural causes his sight wasn't the worst, although his eyes were starting to sting.

The child before him looked at him as if he were asking "what do you want to do?" and Brian responded tapping the bed several times. Stewie answered his silent question with an equally wordless reply. He nodded quickly, letting Brian know that yes, he could lie in his crib; but he didn't need to ask for permission, he had done that many times before. It kind of reminded the tyke of how the older acted after coming back from that obedience school… were they sedating him there too?

Stewie leaned on the crib, able just to see the dog's calm face due to the height difference and position. Brian was looking right back at him, and the child did the first thing that popped in his head – sticking his tongue out. The canine imitated him and Stewie had to suppress an endearing giggle; he might have been in an abyss of neuronal synapses flaring up, but damn everything to hell if the older wasn't cute… it was terribly egotistical, but the baby almost wished the dog acted like that all the time. It was so sad knowing the closest thing to the relationship he wanted the most came from being drugged.

Hold on. Now that they were more normalized, he could- _no_ , he felt compelled to do what he didn't dare to originally; asking the canine directly what those actions meant to him, and since the fish was already blown out the water, it was pointless to beat around the bush.

"Hey, Bri… that thing from before, you know, letting me pet you and that 'I love you' business… how conscious were you? Because I kind of read into that. A… a lot." He found the perfect balance between appearing casual and terribly terrified, which wasn't saying much and depicted him as a nervous mess.

The canine barely reacted. He sounded as neutral as his vocal chords possibly let him when he said "I was as conscious as I am now."

Right. But what did that mean exactly? Stewie didn't have to ask again; Brian's head might have been sluggish, but when it came to the baby he didn't have to think much.

"You're scared I was too out of it to know what I was doing." The child's eyes opening as quickly as Chris's hands moved under his bed sheets meant he was right on the money. "But I wasn't, Stewie; I'm… not too sure I could play fetch right now, but I meant what I said, and I still do." While his statement began sounding somewhat unsure, it finished on a really matter-of-factly note. And if the possibility of him not consuming the antidepressants that morning was there, well, Stewie was allowed to believe him. And to read into it as much as he wanted. And to look for AirBnBs to spend the summer.

It sounded queer to Stewie given he had never thought he'd even hear the dog really saying that, but… hell, it felt fantastic! He couldn't shake off the feeling of being so spoiled being too ideal to believe just yet, but his bewildered expression reflected perfectly what he felt. Something that could be described solely as "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH."

Fuck it; if people didn't care about what could happen afterwards when they were horny, he'd also try his best not to when what he had been after ever since he set foot on that world was welcoming him with open arms.

That metaphor became a literal proposal when the dog asked him if he wanted to lie down with him, and of course he responded saying that if he ever said no to that, the canine should slap him. A second later he had taken his shoes off and had climbed onto the bed; they were about to do some of that chilling the Twitter kids liked so much.

The room had never felt cozier, and while his most cynical side was noticing a pattern: that Brian and he only spent time like that whenever something more than just slightly disturbing happened, he was enjoying the company. What would come up next? A nap where he'd be the small spoon? A nice little, relaxing chat about how many people they knew were terrible compared to them? Stewie was willing to push his luck, but hearing Brian breathe was good enough for him at the moment. He definitely was a dog person.

"Stewie, can you do me a favor?" Oh! It was happening! Yes he was, he'd rub his belly, he'd take his collar off and- he'd tone it down a bit because he didn't even know what the canine wanted. Now, if he happened to want those things, he wouldn't say no.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you help me stay awake?" Oh. Well, he could do that.

"You can take a nap if you want to. Set an alarm on your phone or something; or I could wake you up."

"I'd rather not, my pattern is all kinds of fucked as it is. I wanna try and sleep a whole night again." And whatever sultriness was within Stewie banished; if it was for the wellbeing of his Bri, he'd keep his diaper on. Now, what could they do without leaving the crib? Well, there was something really relevant to why they even were there to begin with.

"You spent last night awake, right? Was it the pills or something else bothering you?"

"Half and half, I guess. I haven't been sleeping to well ever since I started taking them."

"Not like you were doing it on purpose."

"Yeah…" Brian was well aware of that. "So, instead of twisting and turning and walking around the house in silence, I went and took a swig of NyQuil."

"And that didn't put you to sleep?" Unless the antidepressants were causing a more severe insomnia, he shouldn't have been able to keep his eyes open.

"Nope, so I went a step further and tried Ambien." Jesus, how easy was it to get drugs in that house?

"Do we even have those?"

Brian hummed affirmatively and said something about Peter getting some sort of favorable treatment at Goldman's Pharmacy, which didn't sound believable knowing its owner, but that was beside the point.

"While I waited for it to do its thing, I read that it makes you see bugs and got scared, so I took a couple Tizanidines to calm down, but then I thought 'if I relax too much and fall asleep, the bugs might eat me,' so I went outside and sprayed myself with the hose. I think I saw something moving in the grass, and I ran back in. Then I started drinking coffee-"

Hearing Brian's self-inflicted Cold War torture was tremendously worrisome, and he didn't need to think too much to guess what caused him to succumb to such impulses… it was hard to believe he was even conscious and articulating so well. Hell, he should have passed out! In fact, why did- wait.

Something clicked in Stewie's head.

"Brian, were you trying to overdose?" The child didn't sound worried, or angry, or even that curious. His voice was almost patronizing, as if he were asking a question he already knew the answer to.

The dog replied without hesitation, claiming that his only intention was to sleep. Stewie assumed he was telling the truth, and began thinking.

"Had you tried those any of the other times you couldn't sleep?"

Once again the canine offered a negative, and Stewie assumed it to be true. His main focus at the time was more clinical than personal; he took a good look at Brian, and externally he saw nothing wrong – even that ear twitch from before was gone, which shouldn't have happened if the dog was relying on caffeine alone to stay awake. Something was stirring in his head, and while he had some of the ingredients, he didn't know what was missing to properly explain how the Brian before him came to be.

Stewie jumped off the crib alerting the older, who asked what was wrong; the baby ran outside the room, went to check on the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and ran back in. The child muttered something about Brian being an experiment subject, further confusing the canine, before knocking on his closet making a screen appear. Brian's head tilted like a regular dog's would when he's perplexed. "Can you tell me what's going on? Am I dying?"

The tyke simply shook his head as he typed away, stopping every now and then to ask Brian more questions like "have you vomited ever since you took them?" or "did you eat anything?" The dog answered accordingly while insisting on getting Stewie to tell him what was going on. The only reply he got was very cryptic, something along the lines of "you might have just rebooted your whole system."

Brian was lost; he, the adult, was sitting in a crib after having cried and was being cooed by a genius baby who had some sort of computer built into a closet. Wasn't that a pathetic picture? He thought so.

For a while, all that could be heard in the room were the child's frantic taps on the screen and the occasional mutters under his breath. Brian could hear what he was saying, but he didn't understand much of it; the only thing that stopped him from interjecting pretending he knew what was going on was that, unlike the many other times he had done exactly that, he didn't feel the need to. Stewie was smarter than him, he couldn't help, he wouldn't impress anyone; what was the point? He had nothing to add.

Welp.

Tap.

Tap tap tap.

Tap.

"Yes!" Exclaimed the tyke. Finally, something.

Stewie quickly turned around and pointed at the screen on his closet, which currently showed many tiny letters and numbers the canine couldn't read from his position. Brian looked at him with his eyebrows raised, hoping to get a definitive answer to whatever was going on, and that's precisely what happened.

"Brian, the chemical structure of everything you consumed almost matches that of your average truth serum." Okay, that he could understand. "But the way your body works and synthetizes substances, plus two weeks of inhibitors, have made it so you're only reactive to certain stimuli!" That… sounded smarter. "You see? While they have sedative and hypnotic properties, all of them are limited to alpha and beta blockers-" And he was out.

Stewie seemed excited, so he believed it was better not to interrupt him, but he couldn't follow; his best option at the moment was keeping a straight face and nod every so often as the baby continued. "-Gamma endorphins bypassed-" He had to keep himself from looking too sleepy or distracted, but it was hard, "-then, given the stimulant nature of xanthine-" **_really hard_**. Was all that really necessary? He was feeling better, that was nice, and the tyke's entire point seemed to be all about that… at least he sounded like it was, but Brian's self-imposed order to escape sleep until night was becoming almost impossible to follow. "-now, while adrenaline attaches itself to alpha and beta-"

He had to find a way to keep himself occupied; Stewie was on a roll.

'Don't yawn, don't yawn, don't yawn! Fuck, thinking about yawning is making me want to- no, don't say it again. Okay… he said that spending time together makes endorphins… 'dor-phins… like an Asian guy saying dolphins. At least this won't be on the- wait, is this the test he was talking about?'

When would the lecture stop? He wasn't going to college again, was he? Did he need to know all of that?

"-my best guess is that, once your body went into survival mode, it did so limiting you from resorting to your primal instincts, and you've been resorting to the actions your prefrontal cortex-"

'Well, yeah. When was the last time I peed on a fire hydrant? Do I have fines to pay? Did the mayor make pissing illegal or not?'

"-overriding it temporarily with every burst. I don't know how much they last, but if we were to time your moments of lucidity, I'm sure they'd match-"

'I kinda have to go to the bathroom now…'

Stewie turned off his closet computer, but he continued talking, adding something about… brains and reactions…

Brian couldn't hold it any longer. He leaned forward and raised his hand, making the improvised professor stop.

"…yes?" The baby had been in his zone until the dog called his attention. He had a good excuse, though; he was a rock throw away from knowing if Brian would have to live with permanent sequels, and while he was at it he discovered a couple more personal things.

"I need to go potty." The canine seemed serious, and even if coming from him that sounded funnier than it should, the child had to keep his composure. But why… why was he asking for permission?

"Can you… can you go alone or do you need help?" Instead of answering right away, Brian left Stewie's crib and made sure he could stand up properly. He stretched and tapped his legs, and then gave a thumbs-up to the child. "Okay then."

The child watched as the canine exited his room and entered the bathroom, not bothering to close the door. It sure was a… trust display. Never mind that, he was still marveling at what Brian had accidentally accomplished; it didn't benefit the dog that much, but as far as the kid was concerned, it was the first self-regulated truth serum. Sure, maybe he was planning on taking advantage of its effects, but hey, he was also a scientist, it was kind of his duty.

A brief moment later, Brian had returned to his previous spot.

Stewie asked him how much he remembered about his explanation, and the canine squinted, considering what to say.

"…the important parts?" Good answer.

"And how much do you remember?"

"…the important parts?" Not so good of an answer.

The child had to giggle; this Brian was goofier than the regular one, and in any case, he knew the canine's attention was severely altered. Welp, he could give him the abridged version.

"Your head only works the way it should when you're happy, excited, in pain or really angry. There might be couple exceptions due to your sleep deprivation and all the coffee you drank, but you should survive."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"It's okay for the most part, but you don't have much control over what you do."

"And why's that?"

How could he simplify that concept? He was forced to read quite a few children's books, what metaphor could an unfiltered dog understand?

"Let's say your brain is a paper plane; it can only move whenever wind blows, and in the one direction it does. For example, you know when something you really like happens and you act like you don't care?" The pooch nodded, this time fully understanding what he heard. "You shouldn't be able to do that for a while."

"…huh." That also implied that maybe Stewie would have to read more into what Brian did; he didn't know if not being in full control of his actions included having to voice every thought that could elicit some reaction from the dog.

" _'Huh_?' That's all?" The canine looked at him, his expression neutral and his peepers struggling to stay open, making the minor realize the major flaw in his hypothesis – Brian's tiredness. It wasn't a variable, it was a constant… coffee couldn't replace sleep, and sleep was what, in essence, cleaned up the brain. However, originally it was Brian's decision to stay awake.

And if he could retain his will, he could pilot the paper plane – that meant that the only certain fact was unpredictability, or where the plane would be headed to, because only Brian knew.

"It sounds scary."

He wouldn't act spastically if he wasn't willing to in the first place, he wouldn't say anything he hadn't ever thought about telling it in the first place. In short, he wasn't dealing with a Brian unable to control his emotions when prompted, but with one that was only able to act in ways he had considered before – the few ones that were not part of his cool, calm and collected act. A less constructed canine; a truer Brian.

"It is scary, Brian."

"But it's you so I guess it's fine; we've been through worse. Besides, if you want something like money my credit card is six dollars away from getting in the reds." Having such trust bestowed upon him made the baby feel a kind of pride he couldn't register. It was as if… someone was squeezing his stomach from the inside, but in a good way, if that made any sense; he was in charge of his pup and he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from moving upwards.

"All I want is for you to be fine, Bri."

Something about that made the canine start wagging his tail again, and he opened his arms waiting for Stewie; the child didn't think twice before climbing onto the crib and corresponding to the dog's request. There was something the child hadn't taken into account: Brian's perception. Until then and since the moment he had left the crib, the baby hadn't dropped his more brilliant and analytical persona; the older liked that side of him, of course, but it was a little too out of his reach. He, too, loved the genuine Stewie – his Stewie.

They went back to their original position in bed, facing each other as they exchanged sincere whispers; aside from what it meant from a scientific point of view or whatever, Stewie had been truly worried about Brian's drug consumption. He learnt it wasn't something common; the canine preferred weed or booze to pharmaceutical alternatives if he wanted to get a buzz or needed help losing consciousness. The baby offered another alternative; waking him up and telling him, or just getting in the crib with him if he needed something. He had no ulterior motives when he said that; his only intention was helping his Bri.

"And what if I'm falling asleep?"

"You can tell me that too if you want."

"It's happening now." He almost forgot he had to keep Brian awake, and so far he had been doing a sub-par job.

"Oh right! It was very rude of me to run away like that, I'm sorry." Brian understood he wasn't completely serious; the tyke had a good excuse to do so, but that didn't mean he couldn't play a little. He nudged the child with his snout as he whispered in false anger "yes it was, I'll never forgive you" to which the boy replied "even if I do this?" before scratching his chest. The only response he got was excited doggy breath on his face.

Out of the entire experience, the one thing that didn't feel that strange anymore was petting Brian, and he knew the dog would complain if he wanted to, so he couldn't be doing too bad of a job. One thought that was screaming by itself was _'HE LOVES ME, HE REALLY LOVES ME'_ in the back of his head. It wasn't a delusion, it wasn't a source of insecurities anymore, and even if the way he discovered it was twisted, dangerous and contrived, it was real, along with a selfish thought amidst fears and doubts, but well… what are you going to do about it?

"So Bri, what did you do last night if you didn't sleep?"

"I… thought a lot."

"Anything you'd like to share?" The canine didn't reply right away; Stewie could see him pursing his lips and his pupils moving slowly to the left. He didn't have to tell him if he didn't want to, but before the child could voice his thought, the dog responded.

"You've read my book, right?"

"The bad one or the other?"

"Which one isn't bad?" Well, that was new; Brian putting down his own literary creation in such a… _natural_ way. Still, the child could guess which one he was referring to.

"'Faster than speed of love?'" The older nodded and propped his head on his palm, ready to offer some self-critique. The tyke didn't know what else could be said about his book; he had shilled it to death, and to sway the dog you only had to mention a passage. Was it going to be one of those 'I've fallen in love again with something I already liked' stories? Because he didn't do those – and Brian wasn't an exception. Every time he went _"I'm a writer"_ wanting to impress someone his life expectancy shortened.

"I've been rereading it, and I don't know if it's because I was half-cuckoo or what, but I hated it." That was new.

"You did? I thought it was your pride and joy."

"I thought so too, but it felt – too fabricated? Like, too much of a cliché. I couldn't see it as mine, it was as if someone else wrote it." The baby wasn't too sure of what to say. Wasn't that Brian's style? It fit quite a few typical literary tropes, but that didn't have to be necessarily a negative. "If I were to write it again I'd call it 'Idiot whines if he doesn't get belly rubs'."

"I'd buy that, the title sounds promising." Stewie had never heard Brian attack his own creation like that, yet he didn't feel like stopping him. It seemed like he had really been hammering away on those ideas, if the emotion behind the canine's voice was any indicator.

"I'm sure you figured out the main character is me. Well, not me, _me_ ; more like the me I wanted to be, this troubled guy that no one understands and has all the odds against him but thanks to some bullshit everything turns out alright." Stewie couldn't disagree, and he could add his own review, but it wasn't the time for him to jab at the dog's narrative capacity. Brian was aware Stewie knew more than anyone else about him and was more than just smart enough to tell his book was an unnecessarily long narcissistic handjob. "And I was- I was skimming through the pages, and there's nothing. No substance, no good plot, just a- a handful of half-assed rhetoric and figures of speech that try to be profound, and all I do is spew out big words to look important, this perfect girl shows up, we bicker and then we get together. That's it, that's the book."

Brian's growing anger let the tyke know where the adrenaline to stay awake had come from; if that's what he had been doing all night, hatred had become an emergency generator of sorts. Stewie found himself at a strange crossroads – he had made fun of the canine time and time again, and he feared his quips were part of what made him reach that point. "That's a… summary, but it's not-"

Brian wasn't done. "And I- I kept thinking 'do I really want that? Did I want that when I wrote it? Have I ever really wanted that?'"

"By 'that' you mean?" Stewie had a couple guesses, but the dog was on a roll.

"Everything! Being a successful writer, finding the one perfect woman that'll love me for who I am, living life as this important character everyone admires... why do I want that?" The dog turned in the crib, facing the ceiling with his eyes wide open, no trace of his previous sleepiness in sight. The baby was starting to regret asking him what he had been up to, not because he wasn't interested on the subject, but because he wasn't hoping to cause whatever that was. If anything he expected to hear something goofier.

It wasn't fun anymore for any of the two.

"I don't know, Brian; everyone has some goal in life. Yours just happen to be that."

The canine exhaled through his nose; it sounded like he was holding back laughter. "You don't believe that." Yet his voice was dry.

Stewie would have been puzzled if the dog hadn't told the truth; he had traveled through time and changed destinies and the course of History several times. Brian's goal wasn't just something he had been born with. But if the canine wanted honesty…

"You want to feel important." Bingo.

"Why?" That… was something Stewie didn't really know. He had accepted Brian as he was; his hobbies, his habits, his façade, his insecurities, his coping mechanisms – one thing that stayed constant was the canine's passion for literature and his search for ' _the one_ ' that he'd love forever. What made him want that originally was beyond him; he hadn't seen Brian's upbringing.

The child couldn't answer. All that could be heard was a long, defeated sigh coming from the older.

"Have I achieved anything at all? My writing sucks, I haven't done a thing to improve, the moment I cum I start to care less and less about whoever I'm dating, the moment they tell me their problems I wanna run away and I say to myself ' _she wasn't the right one,'_ I have a son – _a fucking **son**_ , and the last time I saw him I tried to use him to get recognition."

Stewie sat up only to stare at the blanket under them, deciding not to add anything to the canine's tirade; he had been there when all those things happened, he just never considered Brian could be so… honest. All he voiced was a barely audible "you sure have been thinking a lot, huh?" directed to himself.

"For fuck's sake, I think I'm better than everyone even though I eat vomit for fun!" Brian then covered his face with both hands, either trying to calm down or wanting to hide something that had become apparent to Stewie. The tyke believed that one day the dog would be more sincere with himself, but he never imagined the scenario they were in, and the outcome in his mind was always a happy one. For a while it looked like things might be going in that direction, but in that moment nothing was going according to any previous plan.

The baby tried to approach the dog somehow but stopped in his tracks when Brian moved his paws upwards, dragging them with force and pulling back his ears as they reached the top of his head, where they pushed down with enough strength as to make his jaw clench.

"What am- what am I supposed to do with my life? I don't... I'm not who I thought I wanted to be... I don't know what I want to be..."

His anger had turned into desperate grief.

"The talking dog who writes isn't enough. What else can I do…? What do I know?"

That was not the kind of reaction someone has over something new they found about themselves; Brian had thought about everything he said before, who knows when, who knows how often, but it was no realization. No, it was acceptance. Perhaps spending two weeks essentially trapped in his own mind made him reconsider the position he was in, or maybe reading his book had really made him see that the one he currently was couldn't recognize the one that wrote it. In all fairness, they didn't look too different, but one had experienced things the other hadn't; one knew more about humiliation, about loneliness, about disappointment… and the other had never considered suicide.

The canine devolved into muttering to himself, and the sight before Stewie was so _irritating_. At his core all Brian had was self-pity? All that self-reflection amounted to nothing? Was that it? The one he had spent so much time chasing was nothing but a furry ball of insecurities that stemmed from not being special enough?

He wanted to slap Brian. To slap him, or hug him and tell him he knew exactly what that felt like. It was just like his session with Mr. Pritchfield; Stewie too wanted to be special, but was that what he looked like? What he sounded like? Was that… _all?_ Were his own aspirations a byproduct of wanting to stand out?

God, wasn't that pathetic?

All it took for him to break down was a couple of questions a stranger made, and then he had to kill him because he was too scared to let the true him be known to the world. Brian on the other hand spent years sticking to what he believed in – or what he thought he had to believe in, and had to consume a dangerous amount of drugs to let the one he considered to be his best friend see what he truly was.

Brian deserved more credit than he got.

It started to make sense; the canine's selfish tendencies, his futile search for success…

Even if Stewie felt like falling down the same spiral, he couldn't afford to do so; one of them having a crisis was more than enough.

"Brian, you need to calm down." He was trying his best to stay calm himself, even if he sounded like he was giving the dog an order. To his surprise, it didn't fall on deaf ears.

Brian focused his eyes on the minor and slowly sat up, leaning closer and closer to the seemingly unflinching child until his nose was merely an inch away from Stewie's face.

"You wouldn't know what it feels like." His tone was hard to register; it came out as something between an exasperated growl and a throaty sigh, sort of the same voice a child would make when he's crying profusely but tries to sound angry.

"Is that really the road you want to take?" The tyke sounded relaxed, confident even; he was dealing with something he was too familiar with, and just like the dog, he had quite some experience as an actor.

"You were born a genius, Stewie. You can't possibly-"

No, the baby wanted to skip that step; he knew that in the end, attacking others to divert attention from oneself would become a string of awkward apologies. They didn't need that.

"You think you're special, but not enough. You want people to think so too." Brian fell silent. "You want strangers to give you their approval, but deep down you know that wouldn't satisfy you either." He could see the older struggling to keep his mouth from opening, but he didn't care; he wasn't even thinking those words before pronouncing them, it was a pure impulse. "It wouldn't because you'll never be happy, no matter what you chase, no matter what you achieve, for one simple reason. Do you want me to say it out loud?"

Brian smiled through gritted fangs; it wasn't a sign of gladness. His entire face couldn't stay straight, wrinkles appeared and disappeared on his snout as the raised corner of his mouth trembled, showing his gums in what some could call a menacing manner. "That genius thing really went to your head, huh? Now you think you know-"

But Stewie saw no threat.

"You hate yourself because you are a dog." Brian's expression became blank; he could almost hear the hammer hitting the metaphorical nail. "Your mind doesn't match your body, and your actions don't match your desires. You have such high standards for yourself you think anyone unable to meet them isn't worth your time, which is ironic because you set the bar at being human; you made it so only you couldn't reach it."

"Shut up."

"Did you grow up admiring great humans, Brian? Is that it? You want to accomplish great things, but do you think-?"

"Stewie, I mean it, shut up."

"Oh, come on! Isn't it true you're secretly glad every time a woman dumps you? You know the kind of woman you go after really well; how could someone with any respect for themselves sleep with a dog so easi-"

"Shut up, _shut up_ , **_shut up!_** " The blanket under Brian's tight fists was getting new wrinkles by the second, and Stewie's sharp words were the only thing drowning the sound of his own heartbeat.

"That's why you overcompensate, that's why you feel the need to impress people, that's why you pretend to be an intellectual. Every time you do something, you think it's nothing because if a dog can do it, so could a human, and if you don't appreciate what you do, why would-"

That was enough.

The dog lunged forward; the neck of Stewie's shirt was hanging from the fingers of his left hand, while the right was aiming directly at the child's face.

Stewie didn't move, he simply pushed through the fear and panic; this was more important than his own wellbeing.

"A dog couldn't do this. A dog wouldn't care about what I say. A dog wouldn't question his purpose; he wouldn't question a thing. You're not just a dog."

All the baby could see was the canine's nostrils dilating and constricting trough erratic breaths.

"Brian, you're letting your species decide what you're worth..."

The canine couldn't even keep his head from moving or his lips from trembling, but his watery eyes wouldn't leave the child's face, which had become nothing but a blur. All he could really perceive was that raspy, unadorned voice that had made him break.

"…when you're the most humane person I have ever met."

Stewie's body was standing on the crib again. Brian fell unceremoniously on the soft surface.

Now calming words were clashing against cries that didn't seem to have an end.

"I'm sorry, Brian, but you asked me why."

* * *

If Stewie had to find a clinical reason for what happened, he'd probably say that Brian's system was getting rid of the drugs he consumed and his caffeine-overridden sleep deprivation had kicked in. But he didn't have to.

It had something to do with repressed emotions, but they didn't have to write an essay on it.

Time had become irrelevant, so who cares what happened in the meantime?

Eventually, only soft breaths dared to disturb the silence the duo floated in. That was until Brian asked if they could take a break, and Stewie accepted right away. Their morning had been an emotional punishment, they did deserve a breather; usually the mood for brunch is more easygoing, but they had to work with what they had.

The canine was greatly surprised when the tyke said they didn't even have to leave the room and proceeded to show him what his former arsenal room had become; an elegant looking kitchenette next to which was a wooden chest and a… decontamination shower? When questioned, the child said that he couldn't afford a bachelor loft just yet, but he had that space and a good sense of interior design so he had to make do; plus, where else did Brian think he kept his inventions and costumes? The shower wasn't so much his choice but a gift from Ahmed, his provider, and he was scared to refuse in case it offended his beliefs.

Whatever, it made sense to the older, who was silently relieved after learning he didn't have to step foot in the house kitchen. It didn't feel like a really… _inviting_ place at the moment, and Stewie's plastic furniture adjusted better to his size anyway.

It was a silent snack for the most part. Brian had tried to avoid the tyke's gaze, but after a silly amount of side glances he realized the shame he was feeling wouldn't be chastised. Slowly, he mustered the necessary bravery to meet Stewie's eyes, who insisted on making small talk about their meal; he felt uncomfortable too, a sour regret that began to dissipate when the dog's movements ceased being so robotic and responded audibly to his occasional "is it any good?"

Turns out drinking juice boxes in absolute silence with a baby while locking eyes was weird. Weird and funny; it had turned into an accidental stare contest that ended in a draw after a series of giggles, _"what are you laughing at?"_ s, and _"your face"_ s. Good enough to break the ice.

Sitting across each other in tiny chairs, surrounded by stuffed animals and stacking blocks, and unsure whether or not he should eat the last pizza bite; Stewie could see no better situation to make amends.

"I didn't mean that… I didn't mean the whole you hate yourself thing, Brian. I was… talking out of my ass, and I don't want you to think-."

His guilt wasn't received the way he expected. Brian simply shook his head and offered the child the tiniest of smiles before saying "no, you are right." He went ahead and made himself comfortable, leaning a bit on the table, letting the weight of his upper body fall onto his forearms. "I don't really hate being a dog, or… myself that much. But it does make things harder; sometimes I don't know what is enough, or if I'm doing right, or why Chris is hitting me with a rolled up newspaper on my nose…"

Stewie understood him. That wasn't a dog-exclusive thing; he too tended to walk an extra mile or two to impress someone even if they were not even paying attention. Just like the canine, he was trapped in his body, but he could convince himself that once he grew up things would get easier… besides, the Griffin household could be hell for any of its residents at any given time. Perhaps their main problem was them? They should move away, really far, maybe take Meg.

"…but sometimes it can be fun. I can hump things, chew things, bark at things… you know, make the best of a bad situation?"

Oh, why just why did he have to use that expression?

"Yes, I know what you mean…" Nope, he couldn't leave that there. He had to come up with something else quickly, and he did. "…sometimes the fat man comes home so drunk he gives me money because he says I can't have a college fund. He just throws coins in my crib, but hey, six dollars and twenty cents are six dollars and twenty cents!" Too cheerful, boy; too cheerful.

"That's horrible, Stewie – by the way, what's up with your voice? Are you incubating something?"

Right, he had to bring that up at some point.

"This is how I sound like. How I really sound like when I don't, you know, make it sound different?" Even if his explanation wasn't the most eloquent, in this occasion there was no hesitation in the tyke's tone when he admitted it.

"Huh… I knew you couldn't have been born with that accent." And neither was shock in Brian's when he heard it.

If the child had forced the older to come clean, it'd have been hypocritical of him not doing the same. It still felt weird, but when it happened he didn't even realize; the sight of Brian about to punch his nose in kind of made it appear naturally, and if someone had to know about it, who better than Brian? In any case, he didn't seem too fazed by the discovery; if anything it was only normal that Stewie sounded like a child.

Even if at times it was hard to tell, he was one after all, and unlike during his session with Mr. Pritchfield, the sensation that followed after revealing such secret was relief – true relief. His voice alone wouldn't change who he was or how special he was… however, what happened to the therapist was still pending of being amended. At times the boy had considered that maybe he did him a favor, aware that his life was an exercise of pretending to be happy after settling down for what didn't seem to be the most desirable option, but he could never fully convince himself of such a thing.

Anywho, it wasn't the time to feel remorse for what had already been done and as far as he knew looked like was bound to happen. Stewie was having brunch with Brian, and that was way more important.

"So, uh… now that we're talking about this; is it offensive to call you a good boy? Is it like calling every Asian person Jackie Chan or…?"

"No, no no no. It's okay when it's true." The canine came to an absolute stop and appeared really pensive for a moment, concerning the younger due to his sudden change in demeanor.

"Bria-"

"Am I not a good boy?" Stewie couldn't avoid exhaling through his nose in relief after learning that was what worried him.

"You are a good boy, Bri." And again, he could hear the dog's tail hitting against the back of his chair. "So you like being a dog?"

"It's not the worst thing in the world, but there are times when I wish I wasn't treated like one. It's like you're only a person when someone wants something from you." Stewie could relate to that. Oh, boy, did he comprehend the dog.

"Like living in a Venn diagram of what you really are, what you are supposed to be, and what you want to be, is it?" Bull's-eye.

Brian responded tapping the table and exclaiming "yes! Exactly! And where you are doesn't even depend on you! And you try hard to be who you are, but only you see yourself that way; everyone else just – laughs or doesn't take you seriously." That was one of those moments that reminded- no, that reinforced his liking for the child. Who else could understand him? Peter, his so called friend that only tolerated him if there were drinks involved? Although, the fact that Stewie knew so well what that felt like wasn't all that uplifting.

"And when you get too burnt out on one side, you're forced to switch to a different one, even if you dislike it." The boy added nonchalantly as he stood up and brought their leftovers and then empty wrappings to the garbage disposal he apparently had in what once was a storehouse of doom, and all the while Brian wondered why he knew that feeling so well.

He was a genius baby, of course his age was an impediment for whatever project he could have in mind, receiving the recognition he deserved, or having a satisfactory social life, and he knew a few more things about Stewie where his youth didn't play a positive role, but Brian never thought that, well… those things mattered to him.

"Hey, Stewie. What are you really?" It was a casual question. He didn't even think of a way of wording it beforehand; the canine just wanted to know.

The baby looked at him from his kitchenette, his expression that of someone calm and carefree, and the tone of his response matched it perfectly. "A mean, tiny, whiny, repressed, know-it-all, manipulative liar?"

Brian's reply was what sounded like a humorous hum and a "if you say so" that only he got to hear. But he had one more question, one he asked once the child resumed his position across from him, aware that the dog wanted so say something.

"Do we all hate ourselves in secret?"

"Yeah, it seems so."

Silence made itself present once again, and suddenly the canine's thoughts were plagued with all the times he had hurt, used, neglected and abused Stewie, and while the child had done the same to him every now and then, he was supposed to be the grownup, he was supposed to know better.

That was their dynamic: they harmonized well together, they had their own brand of banter, and they had to... keep each other on edge from time to time. What's life if you don't get backstabbed by the one you love the most every so often, then have him repent and promise he won't do it again only to go through the same motion the following week?

All the times he had gotten between something or someone Stewie liked, fearing he'd lose him. All the times the tyke had done the same for similar reasons. God, why couldn't be less… _like that_.

"I'm just happy you still wanna hang out with me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Brian could have given him a myriad of reasons, but he didn't. Stewie knew him better than anyone else, didn't he? He had to know those too. They had been through a lot together, and had put each other through a lot too – in his mind, the child just had to choose one, and whatever it could be it would be valid.

"I'm a mess."

"And I'm a baby. Why would you want to hang out with a baby?" Why would he, when he was the only one that made life worth living?

"You're fun to be around, and I gotta make sure you don't choke on a Lego or something." He also was the only person he was able to have fulfilling conversations with, the one that tried to keep him from making stupid choices and didn't allow him to make the stupidest, the one that made him feel like he was really worth something…

"And you're a talking dog; what's Shaggy without Scooby?" He knew his life wouldn't be the same if Brian wasn't around.

"Are you Shaggy in this scenario?"

"I see myself more like a Fred but without the ascot tie. That's like yelling you're open twenty four/seven to any lonely trucker around."

They weren't saying what they thought, but they could understand each other perfectly; they didn't need to be too specific about each other, they knew well how to read between the lines. That was part of their dynamic as well.

Then, Brian stood up with the intention of picking up the tyke, but he didn't have the chance to do so; the moment he stepped in front of Stewie's chair the younger had thrown himself into the furry arms. They were in the same room, they had felt the same atmosphere.

"I'm really sorry I said those things before, Brian, I-" The child was seconds away from becoming inconsolable, but the canine had his own apologies to make.

"Hey, c'mon Stewie, that was really liberating, I mean it; if anything I should apologize for making you listen to this old mutt talk nonsense." He could feel that wetness against his chest again, and while it felt like a stimulant of sorts, making his senses grow alert, he didn't like it. He didn't care about getting damp, or even about the child using him as a tissue; he just didn't like seeing Stewie cry, even less if he was involved in what made it happen. "But we're okay now, right?" His voice had turned into a soothing whisper, and after a moment the child did his best separating himself from the comforting fur and nodding in agreement, yet his crying hadn't stopped.

Brian kneeled, and in the same tone he kept saying things along the lines of "it's okay, Stewie, we're okay" as he gently cleaned the tears off the boy's face with his thumbs, until his sniffles were reduced to the point of disappearance. All he could offer the child was a tender smile and a kiss on the forehead, but it seemed to suffice. The child regained his composure, at least externally, and tried to match the canine's expression adding "we're emotional today, huh?" in the calmest way he could.

They went back to their spot in the crib, which was quickly becoming a good place to… well, not really relax, but it sure was the most comfortable area in the room, and they had spent time in it quite a few times before, coincidentally when things weren't as good as they were supposed to be. Then again, if you were to live off of _"supposed to"_ s in that household, you'd starve to death.

This time it was Stewie who lay down first, sighing and extending the blanket beneath him since it had gotten quite creased. Before he could finish, though, Brian had done almost the same perpendicularly, resting his body in a very dog-like manner, with his paws close to his torso, but laying his head onto the boy's belly, which of course made the younger send the blanket to hell; he _had to_ pet Brian. It was a very comfortable position for both.

After what happened there, the dog had a compelling question for Stewie.

"So you wanna be a psychologist?"

The child was quick to point out that no, he could barely stand listening to his own problems and that he didn't want to spend his days hearing women going through menopause and teenagers telling him that they felt lonely. Brian couldn't help chuckling at the boy's meanness, but when he did so he also made Stewie's abdomen tremble, spreading once more that addictive ticklish sensation throughout his whole body. Welp, good thing his diaper was of the thick ones kind.

"Have you thought about what you wanna be when you grow up?" Stewie didn't doubt before replying.

"Not really. It feels like I've been a baby for twenty years, and the way the economy shifts I don't even know if I'll be able to find a job." That was… a very fair answer. "What do you think I should be?"

Brian had never considered that either. He had assumed he wouldn't be there by the time Stewie finished elementary school, but knowing the kid, he imagined he'd do well in whatever he chose. "Well, you have the potential to be absolutely anything you want."

Awww, wasn't that sappy? The tyke thought so, and while he appreciated it coming from Brian, he tapped the canine's head in false punishment because he wasn't one for stereotypical bullshit.

"What about you? You always wanted to be a writer?" The canine pondered for an instant.

"I guess I didn't. But people kept saying how cool a talking dog was, so I considered they wanted to know what I thought. And I was wrong." Oh please, not this again.

"Really? I thought you were more profound than that. Someone had to tell you what to be?" And Stewie came by with the snarky retort to keep the mood intact.

"It's not that; I've always liked writing, but I never took it too seriously. It was fun for me, creating anything I wanted in the reader's imagination with nothing but words. But then I started taking it as a job, as something I had to do impeccably well, got that… _garbage_ published, and it became a source of stress." For a moment Brian sounded genuinely passionate, but that tone disappeared rapidly as he mentioned his hobby becoming work.

"Can't you make it fun again? Just write something, whatever you come up with, and don't do it thinking anyone's ever going to read it." Brian wanted to tell the tyke how difficult that would be, but Stewie wasn't done. "That's kind of what I do when I build things; do you think I'd have a time machine otherwise?"

About that; inventions that went against everything he thought he knew about the universe were more interesting than books. "I don't even know how you made it in the first place."

"I wanted one, and it seemed like something fun to do." The dog couldn't question that, he had been part of that fun – and misery – many a time before. And if that was merely a hobby for Stewie, perhaps turning it into an actual job wasn't the best idea; his boy wouldn't be a lab coat scientist then.

The child continued; he hadn't answered Brian's question properly. "I don't know what I want to be, but I know where; not here." The canine didn't have to ask why. "I've always pictured myself somewhere near a beach – not those ones with good-looking people and dudes working out because I don't want to go out and feel self-conscious, but one where average is good-looking and hobos don't try to stab tourists. The kind of beach that isn't too crowded and you tell your friends you should go to one day but you don't really mean it, but they say yes and you make plans and have everything ready, when the one guy that holds the group together sends a text saying he can't go and suddenly everyone has some other plan they didn't remember, and you're kinda bummed because you had convinced yourself you'd spend the day there with your friends, but you're also glad because you didn't want to go to begin with, and you end up binge watching that show everyone's always talking about even if you don't really like it because you don't have that many things in common with your friends but I guess you need something to avoid being the odd one out in the group."

All Brian could say back to the tyke's extended description was "sounds nice." He really was trying to keep his attention on Stewie and himself awake, but the boy's half-excited, half-disappointed tone was truly calming. You wouldn't think so, but to him it was like one of those lofi hip hop streams with beats to relax/study/sleep to.

"We'll move into whatever condo we can afford; maybe one where someone got murdered, if you don't mind. The rates get ridiculously low once people hear someone got shot in their bed." Brian simply hummed affirmatively. "And maybe we'll argue at the beginning; I'll say it's perfect, you'll say you don't want it to be a loft because you want to bring women and need more privacy, and I'll say 'oh, when did we agree we could bring more people?', and you'll say-" In his drowsiness, all Brian could really hear was that the 'we' Stewie mentioned was in fact the two of them, and to avoid falling asleep for good, he forced himself to interrupt the boy.

"You're planning on taking me with you?"

"Of course. You know very well Quahog is not the place for people like us. We're good enough for at least the not-so-gay part of Florida."

"And where are you gonna put a stuffed dog?"

He didn't realize what he had said until Stewie failed to answer him. His sleepiness disappeared and his head moved briskly, opening his eyes and blinking several times to clear his sight. He could see the boy looking silently at the ceiling, but unlike in his imagination, he didn't look somber and discouraged; he seemed to be deep in thought, as if he was really considering where his sawdust-filled corpse could fit in his imaginary apartment.

"Stewie…?"

"As if I were going to let you go that easily." The canine was relieved to hear such harmless response. He was scared he had fucked up big time; mentioning his mortality around the boy wasn't his intention, even if he was joking. "You will have to live because I'm not paying anyone to move our stuff for us – I just know they'll lose the good silverware."

While Brian had considered taking his own life before, they had never mentioned the conversation they had that one day they got locked in the bank. Hearing that he gave Stewie's life purpose was… he felt something he couldn't put into words. Like, the child had become something bigger than even his deepest insecurities, as if knowing that he mattered so much to someone just didn't let him go off the deep end; the two were independent, they could spend time without each other, make mistakes, say the most horrific things you could imagine to each other and whatnot, but in the end, Stewie gave his life real meaning, and no matter what, letting him down like that was not a possibility anymore.

To Brian it was an equivalent exchange, they kept each other going; his death wasn't something he wished for or even thought about. What was the point? It would happen at some point anyway, and no matter what he did, his biggest regret was that he wouldn't be around to see Stewie become a man. Other than that, he could only imagine how the child would react after he died; it seemed twisted and selfish, but he believed he was lucky because he'd never have to see such a thing. He got a glimpse of what that was like and that was more than enough.

Whatever, they had had enough emotional crises for a day.

"Aw, shucks. Guess I'll stay, then." And after making sure the boy hadn't taken his question more seriously than he should, he went back to his original position. Stewie's imagination was fun to hear, he'd make sure not to ruin it.

"Besides, do you really think a stuffed dog would fit with the vibrant and youthful Ikea furniture we'll buy?"

"I dunno." Brian was getting groggy again; being in touch with the tyke was always so relaxing. The nights he had slept in that crib with him were always fully restful – it helped that Stewie wasn't the kind of baby that cried, or perhaps the only one, but hearing him breathe and make those noises when he dreamed always knocked him out.

"And I need you to sign the lease; who'd say a teenager with a part-time job isn't the most trustworthy buyer?"

That… didn't sound like it was imagined. Or maybe it was, but the kid was a narrative prodigy and had developed a cute little storyline for his future life, which knowing him wouldn't be that surprising.

"And when Meg and Chris leave and the fat man's knees give up he's gonna want you as his delivery boy – you're definitely coming with me."

Brian couldn't sleep hearing that; it was too specific, it sounded more like an ominous prophecy instead of a child imagining things. He turned to look at Stewie, but he looked as carefree as before; the canine couldn't be quiet after hearing such terrible omen.

"You sound really sure about that."

"C'mon Bri, you can hear those joints crying for help too. Six years tops until they go 'crack'." Okay, since when did the tyke care about Peter's health?

"Stewie, are you trying to tell me something?" To his surprise, the boy giggled and shook his feet in excitement. That wasn't normal.

"Nooo…" He was lying. Badly. On purpose.

"Stewie, what have you done?" Brian tried to get serious, but the tyke's mood didn't make him think something terrible happened right away. He could see the child covering his mouth and then making a 'pffft' sound as he tried not to laugh. "Teeell meeee…" He insisted, begging in jest and nudging the child's chest with his snout, one of the many widely known _'cute doggy interrogation tactics_.'

"Alright, but promise me you won't get mad."

"I'm half asleep, I don't even know if I can." That was good enough for Stewie.

"So, when you married Jess maybe or maybe not I was a little bit terrified you were leaving for good."

"A-ha…"

"And maybe or maybe not I went to the future to see if things were really going to work out between you two."

"Wait, you knew she was gonna live before I married her?!"

"Nope, but I saw her farting in those 'juicy' sweatpants before you did – before this you did, anyway."

So Stewie was aware he'd be miserable and didn't tell him… well, the kid figured out why he was marrying her in the first place, and Brian had his share of deserved regrets. Oddly enough, it was fair; his selfishness had brought the whole thing on himself to begin with. The boy was usually right about his rash decisions and that hadn't been an exception. At least hopefully he got a good laugh out of it.

"How does that tie in with moving to Key West?"

"Whoa there, overachiever, I said the not-so-gay part." That didn't answer Brian's question; his marriage couldn't possibly have enough context clues as to make Stewie see what would happen in the next twenty years.

"No, really, what else happened?"

"I killed some time…" The boy's crypticness had ceased being fun. The canine gave up trying to get information out of the tyke, and went back to his previous position letting out a resigned sigh-growl as he did, but the child was perceptive enough to tell he was at least curious about what he had to say. "…visiting other timelines."

Brian pretended not to be interested, but the tiny, spasmodic jerk of his ears gave away his true desires, which Stewie was willing to fulfill.

"I might have a spare multiversal remote, I took it with me to the future, and you can imagine the rest – since you were away and I had to wait until your marriage came crashing down, I took a peek into what could be if some things were different." The child's voice had turned somewhat melancholic, and Brian really had no other choice but to imagine why. That was, until the boy resumed talking. "I saw what would have happened if you two stayed together; boy, it wasn't a nice view."

Brian really wanted to ask… but he had decided he wouldn't. Then, Stewie too decided to stay quiet.

Seconds passed, and the canine was really fighting the urge to ask him to continue. He waited, he tried to convince himself that it really wasn't that interesting… but hell, he had to know!

"C'mon Stewie, you can't leave me hanging now!" When he looked at the baby, he was grinning to himself; the little asshole had played him. He didn't pay much mind, though; at least he got a response.

"After the bitch tried to euthanize you, for some stupid reason you thought you could work things out and she didn't die while we cut to the end of the episode. In the end, one of you ended up in prison, and the other in the cosmetic surgery floor of heaven. Guess which one was who." Even if the topic was morbid, the riddle seemed fun; those were things that couldn't happen anymore, right? A _'what if'_ about domestic violence if you will.

"I died?" Stewie had never expected to hear a question like that in such a cheerful tone ever, much less coming from Brian – he had his own story with death and time travel, but that was a tale for another moment. And luckily, that moment would never come. Still, he had to maintain the easygoing tone.

"I don't know, which one of the two came from a hardcore Christian family and had a dad that after dying left them a shotgun in his will?"

"I knew it!" Well, that was a happy reaction to learning he had been murdered. Brian explained himself, letting Stewie know that at one point he too had thought of doing something similar while he was married, but that his ideas involved more Tom & Jerry-like traps and staging his death and getting a new identity. At least he wasn't the first to give in – or to commit murder correctly...

Aaand the dog was hooked, he wanted to know more! The baby didn't think twice before obliging; not all of his travels to alternate timelines involved any of them dying.

There was the one in which Meg exacted revenge on the family, excluding the canine and the child, and surprisingly enough everyone seemed to get along fairly well; Brian said it didn't sound too bad, but when Stewie went in depth on what exactly she had done the older retracted his words. He was expecting threats, beatings, maybe even murder; all of those he could justify – but _that,_ that was too much.

"Stewie, do you still have any of your weapons? You know, just in case she-"

"Oh, don't worry. In that timeline she still had self-esteem when she was in middle school, we'll be okay."

In a different one Jasper, Brian's gay cousin, had moved in with the family, and the Stewie from that timeline was… different. Regular Stewie didn't go into detail, but he envied some of the knowledge that other Stewie had; not only that, but he had gotten his ear properly pierced.

"We can still do that here."

"No, no… let's keep things the way they are, Brian. I don't know if that Stewie got it pierced before or after Jasper moved in; maybe that had something to do with him living here, and we shouldn't risk turning our timeline into that one."

There was the one where the two of them had become successful internet personalities and they lived off of keeping their fans wondering if they were family, friends, or had some other type of relationship. When Brian asked how could that possibly be profitable, the child replied by telling him how social media had developed in that future; as it turned out, even livestreams of colonoscopies had become popular, and people were willing to pay to see more. Brian didn't like that future.

"And how did that happen exactly?"

"When I turned four the fat man admitted that he could understand me and needed quick money to buy more of that liquid inside lava lamps, which had become a drug. Our more popular videos were the 'daily outfit' ones."

"We made videos about clothes?"

"No… in those you changed me in front of a camer-"

"Jesus! What was so different in that timeline?!"

"Peter was allergic to barley."

Somehow, everything made perfect sense.

Another one Stewie had liked was the timeline in which he was an inch taller. That was all, nothing else had changed; he didn't even know where that one stemmed from, but it was pretty enjoyable.

Brian liked hearing the boy's stories and all, but Stewie hadn't gotten to the one he had mentioned before, and that was the one that made the canine's curiosity peak.

"So, about us moving to Florida?" He tried to sound nonchalant, but he was getting a bit impatient.

"Oh, right. About that…" While Stewie didn't hate that particular ' _could be'_ , it was set further in the future, and as far as he knew, something big had to happen between their present and that point to change as many things as it did. "We didn't really move for fun, Brian; I got a scholarship."

That wasn't why the dog had asked, and Stewie knew that. It was harder to explain because, given the point in time they were living in and the conditions and circumstances of their world, there was a chance that could still happen.

"You see, some timelines started just like ours, in fact I'd even say that originally they were just one: the very same timeline we live in right now, but something that's yet to happen or not happen split it into several ones. After I arrived sixteen years from now, the remote notified me of a bunch of new universes available to visit, which means whatever caused them to exist is nothing but a probability to us."

Brian was doing his best trying to keep up with the baby, but his brains weren't in their prime, and he couldn't grasp all the science-y stuff that seemed so simple for the child even when he was perfectly lucid. However, the originally curious-turned-concerned tone of Stewie was enough to let the dog know what he said wasn't super good.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

"Well…" How could he put it in a way at least himself could properly understand? "It was as if time hadn't advanced as it was supposed to, as if those other universes and their timelines were created artificially, not by something that made them unique from the beginning but perhaps by… someone." Brian could understand that; how he interpreted it, though, was a different story.

"So it's like the Matrix? We're in a simulation and someone outside did something to change what happens here?" You know, Stewie found that really cute; Brian's naivety, when it wasn't covered in a layer of insecure pretentiousness, felt to him like a child asking about things an adult was supposed to know. However, that field specifically wasn't one many people – or anyone for that matter, knew about, so Brian got an A for effort and for staying awake.

"No, that's too farfetched. It's ironic, but I didn't have the time to see what made them exist and when it happened; I'd have to travel to the future one day at a time or so and see exactly when the new universes appeared."

"You'd have to live in the future to know what happens… in the future?" That both made and didn't make sense to Brian, but Stewie had worded that wrong.

"I would if my intention was discovering it sooner. As far as I'm concerned, it's something that's bound to happen in our timeline at some point – I don't know what it'll be, or where it'll happen, or when, or in which one of the split universes our current us will end up in… but one thing I'm certain of is that the two of us will be in all of them."

After Stewie mentioned that last bit, Brian had a brief moment of clarity that made him realize something.

"Wait. If you didn't use the remote until you were in the future, doesn't that mean you were in this timeline? The default one, with no alterations?" And that maybe he just happened to be immortal?

His thought process was correct, but as it turned out, it was more complicated than that.

"That's what I believed too, but the return pad allowed me to come back to our present from any of them, which means I could have arrived in a different one – or perhaps that an unaltered one didn't exist anymore after that point, that the alternative was nothingness. Since I don't know what it is that was supposed to unfold organically, I had no way to tell which one was the path our current timeline as it is followed originally. It's a little like the Big Bang; there was nothing before it occurred, then the universe was born. In this case, while our universe existed prior to whatever happened, it got subdivided into their own independent universes."

"Huh…" So… universes could have kids?

"Something else that I considered was that perhaps there is an original, unaltered one, but it's isolated, inaccessible for some reason. How else could the rest remain if the mother timeline that made them exist in the first place didn't? Wouldn't those depend on our current one?" Stewie was expecting some sort of reply, but the canine had nothing to add, and at that point the child wasn't too sure of his words either. "That's… quite farfetched as well, but I don't know what else to think. I don't even know what kind of technology it'd take to do such a thing, or if it's possible at all… just, having a breach in the time-space continuum that wouldn't destroy the universe, but expand it." Universes and timelines weren't items you could edit at will to shape them to your liking without consequence, and even less just something you could grab a handful of and stick them in some random point in time.

Brian was lost, and Stewie wasn't too far from getting lost himself. In the beginning that whole ordeal had made the boy curious, sure, but the more he tried to learn, the more questions arose, the less sense it made. The canine had a few more questions of his own, though, and those were simpler to answer since he didn't know what was correct.

"So… what do you think happened?" The child had spent quite some time thinking about that himself, but he didn't have a solid hypothesis.

"My best guess is that another Stewie, perhaps one from a more distant future or from a different universe had something to do with everything. Who else has a time machine and a remote to travel through universes?" That was a good reply; Brian didn't know about anyone else who had a set of those. "How he will probably have done it, though, is beyond me – hell, I don't even know if I'm using the right tense."

"And why would that you do whatever he did?" That, Stewie couldn't respond.

"Who knows? He's been through things we haven't and perhaps never will. I guess he had his reasons." The scariest part was that maybe the Stewie that did it was that very same Stewie that was chilling with his best friend in his crib, looking at the cartoonish bears that adorned the walls around them and caressing Brian's nape as the canine yawned, unintentionally sending a tiny wave of warm air the boy's cheeks way that grounded him to the present again after that confusing talk about universes and timelines.

The room turned silent for a couple minutes as they tried to put the scattered pieces of their brains together again. Man, they should consider picking up a hobby that didn't imply thinking so much.

* * *

Later on, Stewie explained that the whole Florida thing just happened to be the timeline he had ended up in. Brian asked what they were like in the future, but the child refused to respond; what if they turned out to live in that timeline? There'd be no surprise then, and in his hardly conscious state, the dog didn't question any further. Besides, Stewie couldn't bring himself to tell him that the future Brian he saw had grown a mustache; it was too painful. The canine also asked if he knew how he had gotten to live for so many years, but that too escaped the child's grasp; if he couldn't even do teleportation right, why would he know anything about prolonging lives or possibly immortality?

What he could do, however, was share some other interesting stories about alternate timelines that didn't stem from the one they were in currently. The tyke's duty was keeping the dog awake, after all.

"Hey, do you remember human Brian, from the dog universe?" The canine was starting to doze off, but Stewie's question brought him back to the realm of consciousness, at least partly; he slurred his words a little.

"Yeah, we saw 'im die right before us; that's hard to forget." It wasn't a nice view in any capacity, but Brian didn't feel a personal attachment to his human counterpart, even if essentially it was him. Still, seeing someone getting run over was a memory bound to stick around.

"Well, in one of the timelines he had escaped, survived, and got to a universe where everything is pretty much the same, but the color green is called grün, the dog you existed but never joined the family, and the whole Jesus thing happened around twenty years earlier." Stewie sounded oddly glad about those events, and Brian wanted to know more.

"Did he have a better life there?"

"You could say that. There was a Stewie there too, and he was already a grownup when the human you arrived, but since that me had never met you before, the two of them were complete strangers." What Brian got out of that was that no dynamic duo plagued that universe; eh, their loss. They'd miss some great singing.

"Did the two of them ever meet?" The canine had to force himself to move to stop his tiredness from completely taking over; he broke contact with the child, lifting his upper body with his arms and sitting back up in a very dog-like manner, looking at a Stewie that, even if he appreciated the newfound affection Brian had chosen to profess, needed to switch positions as well. He hadn't dared to move until then because, let's be honest, you don't want to move when a dog decides to use you as his pillow.

"Yes they did, and they became good friends – so much so that, since human Brian had nothing else going on for him in that world, Stewie looked after him, showed him around, and they ended up living together." The inflexion of the child's words plus the look he was giving Brian let the older know what followed was not an in-depth description of whatever job his human counterpart had in that reality.

"Why am I getting homoerotic vibes from this?" Stewie smirked as the mischievous little smartass he was – Brian could be really perceptive if he wanted.

"I don't know, Bri, that's on you; but they seemed really happy." The tyke added in false indifference, still smiling naughtily imagining Brian's reaction if he knew the truth. Not a moment later, a subtle, inquisitive bow from the dog let Stewie know he could continue – okay, he had asked for it. "That older me and the human you liked the same museums, parks, cafés, they had similar beliefs on how humanity should ideally get along, they enjoyed criticizing the same trash human shows…" Not too bad so far. "…and the night they were celebrating human Brian getting his citizenship, some things happened." Dog Brian hadn't told him to stop, nor did he do anything to indicate he should do so; if anything he seemed wholeheartedly invested. Alrighty. "Some drinks happened, some words, maybe someone said 'if you'd like,' maybe the other said 'I'd love to'…"

And when the moment of saying explicitly what the whole thing was about came, Stewie felt himself chickening out. His former confidence dissipated because… he liked that universe. He liked it a lot. And he was certain Brian wouldn't; it wasn't until the canine pressed with a "well? Did they get together or what?" that he felt the dog really wanted to know. It didn't look like he wished to make fun of him or to tell him how wrong such a relationship was, but – Stewie couldn't tell for sure… was he truly that curious?

In any case, the tyke nodded in response to Brian's question, adding a solemn "and you were the bottom most of the time."

The dog had nothing witty to add, or a funny facial expression to make; no, after hearing that, he did none of the things Stewie had imagined. No "that's impossible, I'd never do that" or "are you sure that other you didn't do anything to that Brian to turn him gay?" After all, the two of them had no relation in that universe, and their backgrounds were very different – it happened naturally.

The older looked pensive, serious but not concerned or angry, as if he was considering something really decisive. Stewie couldn't even pick on him; where was the fun in doing that if hearing that another version of himself had a boyfriend didn't even annoy the dog? Fortunately, the baby didn't have to wonder too much before Brian voiced his thoughts.

"I guess it makes sense if he's into butt stuff; if he's human he has prostate, right?"

Okay. Okay, there was a lot to unpack there. Wow. Since when did Brian know about prostates and how they worked? Why did he have such a positive reaction to learning that information? Why wasn't he surprised at all?!

Stewie's shock came out as a loud, coarse "what?!" that was met with a similar question from the canine but in a completely calm manner.

"Are you gay now?!" If Brian said yes to that the child would be… angry? He'd feel like an idiot? He didn't know, but seriously, _what_?!

"No! No I'm…" The dog made a pause that made the two of them doubt if he was telling the truth. "…I'm not." He had to be clear because boy, Stewie's mind was racing and his heart beating hard. Another one of those pauses and he'd buy real truth serum.

"So?" For once, the tyke didn't have doubts about himself; this time Brian seemed to be the unsure one, and perhaps he had something to share with his good ol' pal Stewie? Maybe? _Please?_

"So what? That Brian isn't me, I don't care if he likes guys." Huh. That was both a disappointing and valid answer for Stewie; he knew better than anyone else that not all versions of themselves across the multiverse shared the same traits. He would have accepted as it was if the canine hadn't followed up. "But… I've been thinking about some things."

And now the intrigued one was the child. If Brian was acting mysterious just to look interesting he would make the dog wear his diapers. Luckily, that wasn't the case.

"My _terrible_ marriage really made me consider some aspects of life." If the canine was referring to what Stewie thought he was referring to, he could understand him perfectly; as far as he knew, a woman like Jess had the power to make any heterosexual man question their orientation. However, that wasn't exactly what Brian meant. "Before I even proposed she showed me this bucket list she had and I thought, 'sure, I can do it.'"

"She had a bucket list… instead of a, uh… bucket of fried chicken? You know, because- because she was fat?" The dog decided to ignore that terrible joke, but Stewie had a good excuse to resort to such low brow shit; he was nervous. Was Brian coming out or…?

"Yeah, but… it was all sex. It just – felt so empty, so meaningless! And I know I'm not one to talk, but that was all someone with very limited time wanted to do: sex. And then, when she's" The canine finger quoted the following as sarcastically as his paws allowed him to. " _'about to die_ ' she says she wants to get married, have kids… where was all that before? Your first priority was putting a Toblerone up my ass?"

Stewie wanted to interrupt him after hearing that, but his mind took upon itself the task of showing him a mental image of that last comment. Brian's sincerity was doing things to the boy; the dog continued.

"Then, once she knew she wasn't going to die, she didn't have anything else to achieve, you know? No drive, no goals, no 'I've seen death up close and now I know what's important'… maybe it'd have been better if she died right after marrying me." While he was in his husband stage, he welcomed her carrying his bucket of pee, but the memories he had of his own behavior during that period were humiliating enough; for god's sake, he _needed_ a bucket to alleviate himself! If that never happened, if they never had gotten married in the first place, they wouldn't have discovered how much they really hated each other, or perhaps she would have found what her true calling in life was… was Brian dead weight to her? Eh, too late to tell. "Or even better, before."

"That's… quite something, Bri." Listening to Brian's deepest thoughts was always interesting to Stewie. Even if there was some hypocrisy in the dog's tirade, the tyke was glad the older could share that with him, but he didn't know anything about marital issues. If he had to go by what he had seen at home, then man gets drunk, woman complains, man wins argument with stupidity, woman represses, woman bursts, man dislikes, woman represses, woman gets drunk. That didn't seem healthy or helpful at all. "Where's all this coming from?"

"Oh, right." The canine was about to go back to ponder on how much more terrible than him his ex-wife was, because hey, if she hadn't guilt tripped him into marrying her things would have been better for everyone – pause – but he was reminded he had a reason to bring up the topic in the first place. "My point is that I've been making my own bucket list."

When he said 'bucket list' Stewie heard 'things to do together', and at the time, he was all aboard. "Really? Can I see it?" There was no point in hiding his excitement; plus, Brian welcomed it gladly.

"Sure. It's saved on my laptop – unless I did something to it when I was drugged." Of course, he couldn't forget that he couldn't remember.

"I doubt it. You were always on the home screen. You weren't even watching porn in secret, your browser wasn't open." Stewie really considered running downstairs to look for Brian's computer, but… he was too comfortable. He was having the kind of time with the canine they hardly ever had the chance to enjoy, and even leaving his crib seemed like it could break the atmosphere. Instead, he opted for crawling towards the dog and sitting right in front of him, looking at the furry face directly with his palms to his cheeks like an enamored Disney character; he knew what the next best thing after actually reading the list was. "So, what's on it?"

Brian wanted to answer; there were at least a couple things he wanted to propose Stewie since most of what the adventures they had gone on together could make for a neat bucket list alone, and unconsciously he had assumed the boy would be with him. Surely he'd like playing with sea lions… yet he felt a sudden pang of shyness when he remembered the most notorious of all the items that composed the list. He noticed how invested the child was; how could he not? But it was getting difficult to look him in the eyes… god, fuck it. He'd do the same thing Stewie did when he was testing the waters about a subject; he looked away sporting an artificial smug smile and sending occasional side glances the tyke's direction as he said "maybe or maybe not I considered experimentin-"

" _Yes_." The distance between the two of them had suddenly shortened drastically. The boy's nose was brushing against the canine's neck fur, and he didn't move until Brian turned to ask him.

"Yes what?" Oops. Back to reality, Stewie; he didn't ask _'do you want to furiously make out with me and then figure out how a baby and a dog can have sweaty, somewhat uncomfortable but overall enjoyable sex?'_

"Oh, uh… you said you wanted to experiment, and…" The child had gone through a thought process so convoluted and one-sided in such a short amount of time that he considered himself to be the best test subject Brian could possibly have, and the older had figured as much.

"Yeah… uh, no. Not now, not… while I'm on pills." For the first time in the whole day he was glad that happened. Well, not glad, _glad_ , but it worked as a polite excuse that quickly became unnecessary.

"Not with me." Stewie said that pretty matter-of-factly; not sad, or disappointed, or angry - he was over the whole 'I want Brian inside me' thing, but hey, if the opportunity was there, he'd at least try.

"You're a child." Brian responded in a similar manner.

"Yeah, yeah, no, I get it. It's not like we haven't kissed before or anything," And while the kid was apparently calm, he'd lie if he said he wasn't a little bit offended. He was a generous lover and he always worried about pleasing his partner, but it was cool, whatever, it was Brian's loss, who cares. Not Stewie; nope, not one bit. "But I don't want to, anyway, you have doggy breath. And a weird wiener – it's like a tiny volcano with a lipstick bar inside that hides when you stand up."

Brian had to admit, out of all the ways people had referred to his genitals, 'tiny volcano' was one of the most flattering and at the same time insulting ones he had ever heard. The tiny part though… he was at least three times bigger than Stewi- aaand he wasn't about to compare penis sizes with a baby.

"First, you shouldn't be looking at it, and the 'volcano' is called a shea-"

"I know what a sheath is, Brian. And how can I not look at it when it's always there!" The child would have gesticulated towards the area he was addressing if it wasn't because he was too close to Brian and he could have accidentally touched it if he extended his arms… wait was it too late to gesticulat–

"That's… true."

Welp, they reached an uncomfortable point… nah, Brian wasn't about to feel bad because he didn't want to 'experiment' with a baby. What did that entail, anyway? Touching? Kissing? Massaging? Full penetratio–

"I've been… looking into anal." The boy ignored him; how could that not work?! Stewie couldn't possibly be strictly a top. "I don't know why dudes don't do it more, apparently it can give crazy orgasms; too bad I have a dog ass." That was sort of a last resort thing to mention, but all Stewie spit back at him was a dry _"I'm aware."_

It hit him that talking about orgasms and his ass with an infant wasn't the best course of action to take. Alright, he knew Stewie, what could interest him if his rear didn't?

"So, uh…" How could the canine stop the metaphorical ice from forming again? "Do you have Nathan Fillion's number?" Ah, perfect.

Stewie, still feeling somewhat rejected, took the question literally. "Why would I-?" But as he was answering, he understood what Brian meant. "Don't tell me you already have a celebrity crush." Maybe, and just maybe… he could still be baptized in the gay river; although knowing Brian's tastes he believed the older would be more into twinks, or maybe jocks, or fuck, maybe otters. His previous indignation disappeared instantaneously.

"No… but he seems like an interesting guy…" The look Stewie gave him meant he wasn't buying it, and the way he raised his eyebrows made him question if he shouldn't have said that. "Why? Is he, like… a bad one to have?"

"I don't know, Bri. They don't work like Pokémon, you can't decide who you like – imagine just going 'aw man, I like Chris Hemsworth but I wish I liked Ryan Reynolds, wanna trade?'" The room went silent for an instant; what was the canine supposed to say there? "That'd be silly, you like who you like, even if you try to convince yourself that you don't." And Stewie knew that well… how had they gotten to talk about asses and crushes, again?

"I see…"

The thing is, by then, Brian had given the tyke too much fuel, and you could bet your rectum he was going to burn it.

"You know, Brian? It makes sense that you're secretly gay." He had gone back on his word – he was going to pick on him. No one rejects Stewie Griffin and leaves unscathed.

"I'm not-"

"You have these romantic comedy ideals of meeting the one and everything working out so neatly, and that's like basic gay culture."

"Gay cultu-?"

"But c'mon Bri, we can't all be Jennifer Aniston, there's not enough Jason Batemans out there for all of us."

"I don't wanna be Jennifer Aniston." Stewie shot him a hurt but arrogant look because that just wasn't possible, and he had a recent memory that proved the dog was a wig and a face-lift away from starring in a winter blockbuster. The child lifted one finger, did a quick motion that ended in pointing at the dog, and dipped his head in a nod-like motion that meant 'are you sure?' The canine responded with the kind of quick wince-smile one does when asking 'what do you mean?' when you're oblivious to what the other is referring to.

"India." The tyke stated simply.

"That sucked." Brian replied similarly. "And I was after a girl."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean gay as in 'I like men,' more like, the thing as a whole, the tone, the ambiance…"

"Whatever." Well, if that hadn't peeved the dog, then Stewie would have to resort to more tangible examples.

"You're like Dean Martin! Kind of a ladies' man, you like your whisky, your smokes, you have at least one kid somewhere, you are all manly and about loving women but it's a miracle if a relationship lasts more than a week, you even sound like him, and – he was secretly gay." Stewie smirked satisfied with himself, crossing his arms and puffing his chest while waiting for the blank-faced canine to retort.

"Those are only rumors." Not what the child expected, but something he could work with anyway. Time to go for low tier jabs.

"You are right; but your gayness is real." And he made the dog bite.

"How? I only said I might be interested in experimenting!"

"Yeah, which means you've considered it before; one doesn't just say 'I want to know what being with a man is like' out of the blue, you have to assume you're going to at least enjoy it beforehand." The dog wouldn't say it, but Stewie kind of had a point. "Besides, you went to college; who knows how many nuts have been in your mouth. And that's without counting your mannerisms, your expressions, the fact that you might be hiding your homosexuality by sleeping with so many women…" Brian was fighting the urge to retort, and he was doing so successfully. "…you should accept yourself the way you are, Bri-" He had been doing so successfully until then.

"Okay, what mannerisms?! What expressions?! Don't you think I wouldn't want to sleep with women if I was gay?!" And there it was: the reaction Stewie was after. He let the canine's question float for a bit, offering him nothing but a smug expression before resuming his bullying.

"You getting angry means I'm right." Childish, but effective. He made Brian give up, and now he had to go with the old 'I didn't mean it' song and dance, but of course in a very Stewie way. "You should be glad, Brian; every artist has at least a little bit of gay in them, and you're a writer, you sing really well, you've worked on theatre plays, scripts, TV… fits the mold."

The dog wanted to keep wearing his angry mask, but what the tyke said made him curious, and he was more receptive to compliments, even if they were backhanded. It sounded stupid, but... "the gayer you are, the better artist you are?"

"I don't know, maybe?" Wait, Brian wasn't supposed to believe that. He _had to_ know Stewie was kidding.

"It makes sense… maybe that's why- maybe that's why I can't find the perfect woman, Stewie. Maybe I've been looking in the wrong field all along!" And that was not the expected outcome. "I've been writing about the wrong feelings, I've been neglecting ideas I didn't think were for me, I've wasted time licking my own crotch instead of other guys'!." The canine came to an absolute halt as he leaned towards the younger and grabbed him by the shoulders, making the tyke question if life made any sense at all.

"Please don't tell me I've really turned you gay." The canine was looking at him sporting the most excited expression he had seen in weeks, and he could hear his tail hitting against the mattress. If he really had done so, he should think about starting a straight to gay conversion camp – imagine the benefits something like that could provide... the MGTOWs would be so happy.

"Thegaybabysayswhat?"

"What?" By the time he understood what the dog had said, it was too late. "Ah, dammit!" How quickly the tables turned. The older chuckled victorious, letting go of Stewie and leaning back again, spreading his legs to get more comfortable – or probably to assert his dominance? But the baby wasn't done just yet. "Whatever, you're still the second gayest around." And that included Rupert, who currently was in fourth place; he had been acting differently as of late, more as a 'give me a quick blowie in the bathroom and don't talk or look at me' type of teddy bear-guy.

"And I'll never beat the reigning champion."

"You can always practice. Is that why you're offering?" Brian then realized the position he had assumed, and he did nothing about it. What? Humans weren't supposed to care about his species being naked.

"Nah, that's just to tease ya'." Stewie's only response was what would have been an irritated eye-roll if it wasn't because he kept looking back and forth at the canine, perhaps waiting for the pooch to tell him that he wasn't joking, or just because he remembered he had to keep an eye on him. Until then he seemed okay; if the baby had to be honest, he was… better than normal. At least the time they were spending together was. Even before Brian started to be force fed those antidepressants, their interactions boiled down to meaningless conversations and shenanigans to kill time. This, on the other hand, was fulfilling. Maybe not completely organic and dumber than usual, but… really nice.

When Brian inclined his head and moved his eyebrows up and down as quickly as he could, insinuating himself to Stewie and aware that the kid was pretending not to look at him, the child dropped the act and giggled at the canine's silliness. Yeah, as if Brian was ready to get all in his diaper.

However, Brian liked that. He liked their exchange a lot; it was something he wouldn't dare tell anyone else. Surely, if Peter or Lois found out he might have thought about dating men they'd laugh at him, saying something like " _I knew you were a homo, you banged Quagmire's dad."_ To any outsider it might have looked weird that an adult was talking about his sexual orientation with a child, but oddly enough, that same child knew more about the subject than anyone else he knew.

"Hey, Stewie. How do you know if you like a man?"

This time, the baby didn't play around; he could tell the other was serious. His explanation was simple. "The same way you know if you like a woman, I guess." And it was also correct.

Talking about sexuality and the such with the tyke made Brian consider something that could be heavily related; feelings, more specifically love. Joking about dating Stewie and all was fine, but the dog wasn't blind; he had spent quite some time with the boy, he knew that not everything were jokes. Perhaps they were this time around, but what about all the others? What was a hug to him? And a kiss on the cheek? Sleeping together? Just… what was he really to the boy? At the extremely bare minimum, he could say the tyke appreciated him being alive, but where was he supposed to go from there? What was an 'I love you' to him?

It was a thought that had popped in his mind every now and then, and he had never gotten a proper answer because, well – he never really asked. But he wanted- no, this time he _needed_ to know. An occasion like the one they were in had never presented before so, why not take full advantage? And if he said something he shouldn't… he could blame it on the drugs. Scummy, sure, but it was something terrifying to do; a safety net would be welcome.

Brian didn't need to take a deep breath, or to scratch his neck as indecisiveness engulfed him, or to gulp before opening his mouth, or to look anywhere that wasn't Stewie's face; none of those things happened. There was some fear within him, of course, but he was determined; even if it was his stupefied brain unable to really process what he was about to do, he was determined to know the truth.

"Stewie?" No hesitation in his voice, no sign of doubtfulness on his face; just plain, ol' Brian getting his best friend's attention.

"Yes?" The child couldn't possibly know what was about to happen – or maybe he could, his mind worked in ways almost impossible to understand, but just as the canine, he sounded and looked as calm as he always did.

"What do you really feel for me?" Nothing indicated Brian wasn't serious, and the atmosphere had changed a bit; it wasn't as relaxed as it was prior, yet it wasn't heavy either. Just… different. Perhaps 'earnest' was a good adjective to describe it, but not the only one. Important, meaningful, significant – any of those worked too.

"You really want to know?" Given his sexual advances were in jest, to Stewie Brian's question went beyond a 'do you really like me that way or what?' Well, the situation had been building up to something; their sincerity streak had to peak at some point. The child had already imagined something like that could happen, but it wasn't his only speculation; who knows, maybe Brian had some darker secrets to share, or the canine could ask him if he'd want to help him find a man willing to experiment, or they could plot how to take revenge on Lois for poisoning the older… however, none of those could make the boy feel the same rush Brian's question did.

"I do."

Stewie exhaled melancholically as a humorless smile made its way onto his face. He had asked that same question to himself quite a few times, and while he didn't have a rotund answer, he could try to explain the canine if that was what he truly wanted.

Such an uncommon chance to risk his whole self… but he was itching to take it.

"I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything else – but it's complicated. You're my absolute best friend, we're there for each other for good and for bad, and we can send each other to hell and at the end of the day we're both apologizing for whatever happened; for a while I believed I wanted us to be lovers… maybe because I didn't know any better, because I didn't know what a real relationship was like. You also know that I see you as the best father figure I have, as someone I need, someone I want to impress, someone that's proud of me – and at times I also see you as an older brother, as someone I can bicker with, but also someone who helps me when I need it, someone who… protects me; then sometimes I just feel like hugging you, like petting you, like playing with you… and then I want you to be my confidant, the person I can trust the most, the one that knows the true me and accepts it. And some other times I just want you to be there, with me, even we say nothing or do nothing… I like it when I'm with you, when we spend time together."

That was a fairly decent summary.

Stewie couldn't possibly know because he had never said it out loud, but telling Brian the most honest truth he harbored proved to be a challenge. It was scary, but exciting; once he started speaking he couldn't stop until he had run out of things to say, yet after he stopped, he wasn't the only one that wanted to talk.

"We can do that." After hearing Brian say that, the fear within Stewie disappeared, only excitement was left, just a different type; it was a hopeful exhilaration, a confirmation of his feelings that let him believe anything he wanted. If any of those beliefs would one day become a solid reality was a different story, but at the moment, it didn't matter. It kept him from thinking what would be of his future and made him want to know how the present would unfold. Simply put, it erased one of the biggest worries he had and made him happy, especially since anything related to the feelings they had for each other was a subject they had been dodging forever. There had been some tiny glimpses here and there, and some little but significant details that perhaps only Stewie had noticed and blown out of proportion – but now he knew, Brian had been paying more attention than he believed. "Does a relationship like that have a name?"

"I don't know." But knowing that Brian accepted his feelings sincerely didn't mean he was going to become a fragile, codependent, softie little child. Independently of what he felt, he was still himself. "Are you including the 'lovers' part?"

"Uh…" Besides that one thing, everything else the canine heard was what he expected – no, not that. It wasn't what he expected, but what he wanted to hear and secretly feared he wouldn't. He had been quick to put himself in the worst possible scenario, like the boy telling him 'he was alright' without even considering his words, or asking him to impale him with his cock if he really loved him. Stewie's statements were the most delightful thing he could listen to, the sweetest anyone he had ever been with voiced, and he couldn't expect anything less from the tyke who claimed he gave his life purpose. He felt lucky the boy was even interested in him at all; an old dog with nothing going on… sometimes it felt like Stewie was too good for him, even more if he reminisced about the times he had mistreated the child, but God himself could come down from the heavens and smite him if he wasn't thankful for and to the tyke.

"If you say yes I think you'd be my 'daddy'."

"I don't think I wanna be that." Although it sounded flattering; why the boy would find him attractive was something he couldn't grasp, but he could assume – and rightly so – that it went beyond physical characteristics alone.

"Neither do I… so, what about you? What do you feel for me?"

It was fair; Stewie answered him, and he'd have to reciprocate.

"It's pretty similar. I love you too, more than anyone I've ever met, even if sometimes we can be distant or do terrible things to each other; I consider you my best friend and – well, the best thing that's ever happened to me, like someone I don't even deserve. I like spending time with you too and… god, you took all the good words, you know that?" The boy let out a humorous hum, but it wasn't hard to tell that the canine was anxious as well; if he had sweat glands, his palms would have been sodden. "Sometimes I see you as an equal, as someone to share secrets with, to laugh with, to cry with… sometimes as someone so above me that I'm unable to comprehend, but I still want the best for you, and sometimes… as just a child. A sweet kid that… even if you're not my son I want to look after, I want to take care of, even if I don't know what to do; I don't want anyone to hurt you, I don't want you to suffer... even if sometimes it's me who makes you suffer. Sometimes I fear I'll lose you, and I do things to keep you near me, but once I do… I'm too scared to do anything. I just – want to know you're there for me, and I want to be there for you too, but… maybe it's because I'm a dog, or maybe I'm crazy, but I get jealous if I see you having fun with someone else, I think that you'll forget about me, that you'll move on to something better, that I'm only weighing you down, but you always come back. You're there when I need you, and I should know by now, but… sometimes you look so prepared to go into the world without me holding your hand that… I want to hold it a little longer before I can't keep up anymore."

Brian had nothing prepared, he spoke without even thinking what he was saying beforehand, but it wasn't necessary. In many occasions, he had wondered what Stewie was to him; the problem was that he had forced himself to desist before getting too deep into the issue because… he believed he shouldn't. He wasn't his son, they were friends, and that was it; he didn't dare delving any more in case he discovered something he didn't want to know or didn't want to accept, but he had already done so.

He could admit freely that Lois and Peter were terrible parents if Meg and Chris were an example of their parental prowess; he wasn't there when they were born, but he had seen them grow up, he had seen the way they were treated, he had seen how little they mattered to the ones that ought to care for them the most, and Stewie… Stewie wasn't only his best friend, but also… _his boy_ , the one that talked to him first when he needed help or when he had something good to share and vice versa, the one he had to console and cheer up or tell he was making a mistake and – again – vice versa. Stewie wanted him to _be there._ And he would. He would be there. On his fucking grave if Lois and Peter were to raise him to end up like their other children, because now, Brian was there.

He had repressed so many thoughts about Stewie he couldn't help but be surprised after hearing his own response; this time, however, he just wasn't able to sabotage his own words, and the boy never had the intention to stop him. And as it seemed, his answer wasn't wrong.

No; no, it also wasn't fair. That wasn't fair. He had no right to make Stewie cry again. Hearing the older say those things for the first time made the child feel… so many emotions at once. It was hard to explain; learning that Brian had him on such a high pedestal, that he cared about him so much he could really be considered his father, that he admitted his wrongs, his jealousy, his possessiveness, his fears, and that last thing – that he was scared Stewie would grow up and forget about him, that he wouldn't care, that he wouldn't need him anymore… god, _he loved him_. He couldn't tell him how much, no words would ever suffice to express what he felt, but it was so reassuring. Admitting that they weren't perfect, but that in a strange way only the two of them could comprehend they matched so ideally; that they were so special for each other… it was more than anything Stewie could have ever wished for.

The boy tried to act tough, smiling as tears ran down his cheeks, because he really felt like smiling; however, all of their shields were down. Brian already had him in his arms before his first sniffle, holding the tyke as if his life – **_knowing_** _that his life_ depended on him, and not a second after, Stewie was hugging him imbued by everything that made Brian so important, his little hands shaking as they tried to find each other behind the furry neck, finally certain that the dog wanted that as much as he did; that he loved him as much as he did.

If that's what happened when they didn't bottle up their feelings… they could do it more often.

"H-how could a baby of all people be too good for you?" Stewie managed to whisper against the canine's shoulder among pants and hiccups. Brian didn't answer; the boy already let him know he wasn't, that he believed he was just right. A few different hobbies and interests couldn't change that. "I could never be too good for you, you silly pooch."

With all their flaws, and with all their virtues, they were just perfect in each other's minds, and in each other's arms.

While they came down from their emotional high, Brian had decided to properly lie down with Stewie, snuggling him just the way he liked it, nuzzling and occasionally licking and kissing the child's face, who was relishing in that unbridled affection they were sharing, not letting go of the canine either, not because he was afraid he'd lose him, just because he didn't want to. It felt like calm ecstasy, like the sensation you once thought you felt and spent your whole life missing until, without any previous warning, engulfed you and made you feel that every hardship you had ever been through had been worth it. It felt so _right_.

However, such reward had also brought exhaustion, but it was a relieving tiredness they were willing to satisfy, even if one of them still had a duty to fulfill.

"Didn't you say you wanted to stay awake until nighttime?"

"I'm giving up."

Stewie too would welcome some rest; it was way past lunchtime, and coincidentally, time for one of his naps. It was extremely difficult to play contrarian with the canine, given he was still wrapped in Brian's warmth, being held by the older who caressed his cheeks with his delightfully soft muzzle, making him melt onto the crib that was becoming their go-to place for comfort and coziness.

"No turning back now."

"I can live with that."

And even though the tyke had enjoyed their heart to heart and the results it yielded, he couldn't shake off that one voice in the back of his head telling him that in reality everything had been fruit of Brian's voluntary and involuntary drug consumption. He'd have to wait until they woke up to really find out, but that day of discoveries and the emotional journey they had been on together could never be taken away from him. And if after fully coming back to his senses Brian too accepted what happened and agreed they should be more honest with each other, well, he wouldn't complain; the first taste had been a bit bittersweet, but truly satiating.

Their current priority was enjoying each other's company, whether they were conscious or asleep, and nothing could change that.

Later that day, the rest of the family came back, and an argument Brian and Stewie weren't there to experience happened after they found the bottle of antidepressants with Lois's name on it on the kitchen table. No matter what the result was, the child and the dog would decide to have future meals outside the house.

* * *

"Hey Bri, have you thought that if you weren't a dog all the petting and the licking would have been weird? Like, rubbing a naked grown man's belly isn't what a child should do."

"I… am doing it now. But you wanted to be a dog's lover, what does that make you?"

"I don't know, a furry?"

"Well, I won't ask for-"

"Nonononono. No, no, no, no… no. I was kidding."

"Me too. You have the perfect hands and reach the right spots. And you taste like cherry Capri Sun."

"…thank you."

They slept peacefu-

"By the way Stewie, what do you look like when you grow up if the human version of me wanted to be with you?"

"A little shallow, aren't we?"

"Hey, if one me is willing to be in an almost incestuous relationship it must really be worth it."

"Well... I'm not too bad looking, but have you thought maybe you liked me for my daring mind or my endearing character?"

"I already like you for those things, that's why I'm asking."

"Awww... you'll have to wait and see, then."

"That's alright – I like surprises."

 ** _They slept peacefully._**

* * *

 **And that's all, baby birds and baby squirrels. I must thank my homosexuality and my daddy issues for giving me the inspiration I needed, even if they make everything I write look the same. Shoutout to my sponsor, pills. You're stressed? Take some. Can't sleep? Take some. Have that weird kind of depression that's like a pit in the core of your being and nothing satisfies you so you think 'fuck it, I'm getting a nice buzz' but then you don't only not feel better but your muscles feel like jello? Take a double ration with a shot of something strong.**

 **Also shoutout to Seth MacFarlane for keeping a show with his fursona in it running for so many years.**

 **Now you have the bonus trash to read! Isn't that exciting? Please don't look at me like that.**

* * *

SET WHEN THEY'RE IN STEWIE'S CRIB AND BRIAN ACCIDENTALLY SAYS THAT "wher u gonna put stuffed dog?"

"As if I were going to let you go that easily." The canine wasn't expecting that response, even less in such a casual tone.

"…you might have to one day." He believed Stewie had already accepted his mortality, but either he was reading the situation wrongly, or the boy was in denial.

"Please, this isn't the bank, Brian." Now that sounded cold.

"Then you know we've been over this. I'm a dog, and I-" His biologically and overall correct answer was interrupted when the tyke's voice turned more aggressive.

"So?" Brian was confused; he had imagined the boy would have a hard time accepting it when the time came, but for him to be in such state… he didn't want to do it, but if he had to explain why he- "Why do you believe you'll die much before I do?"

The older was physically taken aback; he lifted his upper body with his arms, sitting in a common dog-like position to at least see the baby's eyes. He didn't even seem angry or sad, more like as if he was trying to remember something, his pupils almost adjoining his eyelids as they aimed towards the top left corner of the room. Had he been thinking about this?

"It's a fact, Stewie." The mood had turned heavy, and when the child spoke up again, the older knew he had done right by sitting down.

"Let me know if this sounds familiar." The tyke finally looked in his direction, but something was telling Brian he didn't want to see those eyes right then. "' _I'm secretly happy I'll die before you even go to middle school because you'll have time to move on, and I won't have to spend my days waiting for your attention or bothering you. I know it's selfish, but you have a bright future ahead of you, and I'd only get in your way.'_ "

The dog said nothing. His expression was impossible to read.

"Or what about _'sometimes I wished I was a normal dog, so it wouldn't mean that much to you, or maybe a normal human, like your uncle or something, so I could see you grow up and become a man, but instead we got this_.'" The friendly tone in which he was reciting those was chilling, but the fact that Stewie knew about those… _those thoughts!_ He had never even put any to paper, how could he-

"Or, my favorite, ' _I know we had our ups and downs, and I really wish in the end you hated me so you wouldn't care about me. I don't know, maybe I'm just trying to not feel so guilty before dying? After all I'm letting you down again, but it's one hell of a letdown, isn't it? And the final one, too!'_ "

That last one didn't sound familiar, but the rest… were verbatim things he had considered before…

Brian gulped. He wanted to move, run away, hide somewhere; but he couldn't. He hadn't even realized he was having trouble breathing until he tried to speak.

"H-how can you…? Why do you know that?! Why do you know _all **that**_?"

Just like his, the boy's expression changed drastically when he opened his mouth again.

" ** _Because I've already lost you!_** "

Stewie's bellow could be heard from anywhere in the building.

He walked up to a Brian frozen in place, who could only observe the tyke's broken face as he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer. He was trying his best not to cry – that applied to the two of them.

The canine could feel Stewie's pants on his snout, and…

And that's all I wrote. Then I thought "nope, I don't like this, I'm hating myself just writing it." Imagine confronting someone over suicide notes they haven't written yet because you've been to alternate timelines and have read them. I know it kinda looks like it was going down the Vegas or _True Death_ road, but being told how you've killed yourself in alternate timelines just to justify that you'll be affected after that person dies seemed traumatic and twisted enough… and it was about to end with Stewie forcing Brian to live forever only because he wanted to. Honestly when I first considered it I thought "it's ok, that's how Stewie will get his point across" but holy shit, I might need to get checked because that's fucking terrible. And then, how was I supposed to transition into spilling beans and shit? I like the alternative better, though; I didn't even have to think that much about the timelines thing, and it was fun to write. And while I don't know how accurate it is according to actual time travel theory, I'm happy knowing that I did it better than Dragon Ball Super.

Aaaaaaaaaand while we're on that…

The answer to the split timelines thing is simple: primordial Stu lived his life, Brian died, time went on and by the time he made the discoveries he had been after - like immortality,

creating a dimension separate from any other universe to hold his original, unaltered timeline that only another device he created later on could access in order to go back in time and do whatever was necessary to create timelines that branched from his original one so he could make his other selves chase the dreams he had developed growing up instead of dedicating his life to find a way to make his former self happy,

and a way to make those exist without disrupting the time-space continuum – nothing else mattered to him in the timeline he belonged in.

He found a way for him to live the lives he wanted, even if the Stewie living those wasn't really himself, thus becoming nothing but a spectator in those lives, but still being able to obtain the answers to whatever 'what ifs' he might have. The thing is, all of those involved Brian being around – he just loved his doggy, my dude.

His only fear was that one of the Stewies he was observing realized the truth, went down the same path he did, and undid everything he had worked on. But since what made him able to live vicariously through himself would have already happened by the time another Stewie could be able to reach him, he'd just have to keep going back in time to stop those rebel Stewies, who he knew well would only go down the same route if they lost Brian for good.

Simply put, the Stewie in this story isn't the primordial Stewie, but one of the few that would live a life he really desired, with some help from the primordial Stewie, who had become paranoid and basically a god-slave whose goal was making his other selves happy, along with making the Brians in those timelines immortal until they really felt like it was their time to go.

And of course, the Stewies and Brians in the happy timelines could meet each other if they visited their coetaneous universes, but they didn't have the means or the information necessary to reach the primordial Stewie, nor they dared change the past and meet a pre-happy route Stewie because, by then, they had already experienced the results of doing that. The primordial Stu is/was/will be a kinda smart dawg.

So like… a paradox, I think? He basically makes the original, primordial timeline nonexistent by keeping it isolated, impossible to change what made that him exist in the first place… and it's like the root for the rest, because it would have to exist so he could go back to it to make the rest also exist?

im on my bullshit here i don kno mane he create universe

* * *

 **CONGRATULATIONS! YOU OPENED ALL THE TREASURES CHESTS AND FOUND ALL THE LOST DALMATIAN PUPPIES! YOU'VE UNLOCKED THE SECRET… thing**

* * *

 ** _REBIRTH / RECONNECT_**

"What do you mean a skeleton in a hoodie is coming for you, Brian?! That doesn't make any sense!" The child's screams were quickly silenced by the deaf waves of the Dark Margin sea, making them resonate solely within the canine's mind.

"He's my… enemy, Stewie. You're not the only one that can travel through time and space." Brian sounded calm, but the turmoil inside him was impossible to describe. There was only one thing he knew for certain; he would have to fight.

"What are you saying?!" Instead of responding right away, the dog extended his right arm as he closed his eyes, focusing his power like he had done so many years ago. It felt incredibly difficult in the beginning, but just few seconds later, the energy he channeled was rewarded; what seemed to be a large key-like weapon materialized in his paw, a familiar yet almost forgotten blade he had sworn not to ever use again. However, he had a good reason to break his promise; he had someone important to protect.

"I… don't belong in this world."

* * *

 ** _And if you are here still you might as well have some raw text and deleted scenes, I guess. I don't know if that's a present or a punishment, but enjoy?_**

WHEN FREAKING OUT MENTION BRIAN HAS BEEN THINKING A LOT, ABOUT THINGS, THE PAST, THE FUTURE, ABOUT STEWIE. THEN MENTION HE WORRIED ABOUT HIM, THAT HE WASN'T THERE WHEN LOIS AND PETER RAISED MEG AND CHRIS, HE COULDN'T DO MUCH FOR THEM, WAS SCARED HIS PARENTS WOULD RUIN HIM, BUT THAT HE HAD GREAT POTENTIAL AND HIS LIFE AHEAD OF HIM AND WANTED THE BEST FOR HIM BUT THAT HE HAD BEEN A SHIT PARENT TO DYLAN AND DIDN'T KNOW IF HE COULD DO A GOOD JOB WITH STEWIE OR IF HE WAS BEING SELFISH AND MAYBE STEWIE DIDN'T EVEN WANT HIM AROUND. HE LIKE, WHAT DO I KNOW ABOUT BEING A FATHER? I NEVER MET MINE

STEWIE LIKE. HEY, CHILL, WE GOOD

"I'm sorry, Stewie... I didn't mean to do... that." stewie like it's ok, I don't blame you, uses the pills as excuse. "Are you feeling any better?"

Brian considered for an instant; the boy couldn't be referring only to his physical state. Getting all that out of this system wasn't... terrible.

"Yeah, I guess."

Shit about insecurities, how to deal with them, mention that it reminded him of the time they got locked in the bank, mention suicide intentions? Brian like 'i don't really consider it anymore but sometimes i feel... I don't know, like something isn't right. You know those times i drop by your room or ask you if you wanna go somewhere? That's... When it happens.'

But if they cool, maybe stick around.

Stewie his coping mechanism? Did he really have some good dad dna? 'Sometimes i want to get away from the world and... It's better if you're there.' stewie blush? Share feelings

"You know what I've learnt recently, Brian? That time does heal all wounds."

"Have you been fighting with other kids at school again?"

"No, that's not- well, this one boy at the park said he wanted to play with Rupert, but I digress." Time heals all wounds, but then what? You have to deal with the aftermath; the scars are going to be there, and you can try and cover them, or they might even make for good stories... but they'll never really disappear. The damage is done.

"Stewie, what are you getting at?"

"I don't know..." he was referring to other Stewies he had seen in different universes and timelines, what they had been through, how they had ended up, what choices they made, and what could he do to avoid the worst possible outcome. Finding out how vulnerable he truly was made him wonder if he'd ever break down, and in many of the points in time and space he visited, he did; how he'd deal with that was another story, though.

"That we're all idiots and we worry too much?" he exhaled in defeat.

Stewie sat next to Brian, who began rubbing the smaller back without even thinking about it, unconsciously trying to comfort the baby just like the human tried to do previously.

"You're an idiot too?" jokingly. For God's sake, they were in his secret lab.

Something clicked then for Stewie; maybe it was how that situation came to be, his recent studies, suddenly receiving the most genuine contact he had felt in a while from Brian no less... an idea appeared, one that caused panic, a panic that the baby pushed through immediately, as he was about to use himself as a test for his studies. He cleared his throat, and in a manner he hadn't ever uttered much, he responded.

"Yeah... I'm an idiot too, Bri." REAL VOICE

The dog noticed the shift in the baby's tone.

"You got a cold?"

Stewie couldn't avoid chuckling. "No..."

SPILL MORE BEANS, HUGS AND NUZZLES, END IN something like "maybe they weren't special to themselves, or to the rest of the world, but they were to each other, and right then and there, what anyone else could think didn't matter in the slightest."

"And if you keep having trouble sleeping you are always welcome to get in my crib."

"I'll keep that in mind. But shouldn't it be other way around? The baby that can't sleep wanting to sleep with his parents?"

"Babies are supposed to be the ones that cry but you were bawling right here with me, you big pup."

"Heh, you got me there."

jesus im a huge faggot

"I think I'm this- this genius, but if you throw a tennis ball at me I'm just a dog. Nothing but a dog. And that's all I am." when putting himself down

"I- I- I've been taking you for granted for so long I don't even know why you'd wanna hang out with me. Why would anyone? I'm- I'm - you've been right for years! I'm a delusional douchebag piece of shit and the only way I can feel good about myself is if I put other people down."

"Stewie, you're the only person I've ever had a fulfilling conversation with, and I know you're a genius and all that, but you're a baby."

"You've mentioned that before... does it matter so much?" like sad annoyance because he had heard it before

"It does... when I think about you growing up I- it scares me. If you have to step? to my level now so I can keep up, by the time you turn three I'm gonna be like a retarded chimpanzee to you!"

"Are- are you serious? My god you're an idiot."

"And- and sometimes I think it's better that I'll die way before you ever become an adult, because if you- I... I don't know what I would do if you forgot about me." That hit Stewie deep; the dog tried to continue. "I'd rather not be around when-" but the baby wouldn't have it.

"Enough! God dammit, Brian! You really are an idiot!" The dog's honest streak was becoming a pity party he didn't want to be part of. "Do you really think I'd do that?! Huh?! One day I'd say 'oh, I don't care about him anymore'?"

The dog couldn't really picture Stewie as he knew him doing such a thing, but not all fears are rational.

"Listen Stewie, one day I'm not going to be here, and you have your whole life-" He was tired of hearing that.

"No! Not that again! Have some respect for yourself!" moment goes by, Stewie calms down "You know very well that could never happen..."

"Do I?" it hurt to think Brian saw him as a son but at the same time didn't think Stewie cared as much?

"Have you ever thought about what I'd do after you were gone?" The canine was going to reply, but the tyke made clear what response he wanted. "Besides that fantasy world where you're meaningless to me; we both know what my feelings toward you are... even if it's a subject we'd rather dodge." talking about their emotions wasn't something they usually did, and if their current relationship was uncommon, their potential future one was borderline surreal.

The dog pondered for a second, and he believed many of his thoughts would be better if they never left his mind, so he had to settle for the following.

"I... think you'd cry."

"That's it?"

Brian stayed silent.

Stewie deep breath and sigh.

"I've already lost you before- well, not this me and not this you, but... a little more than that happens." Aside from that past Christmas's shit that other stewie and the vegas incident blablabla

"What do you mean?"

"I've been to other timeliness, other universes, present, future... and no matter what you think, believe me when I say you're not meaningless, Brian." pain in voice or something

"What- what did you see in those?"

Stewie looking at the ground, considering what to say and how.

"...timeline F02; you never existed, and apparently you were somehow involved in my conception, because I never existed either. F13; I existed and you didn't. I, this me, arrived in the same chronological time we're living in – that other Stewie was yelling at the decaying corpses of the family. I didn't stick around. F29; you're a normal dog. Without anyone to talk to I spend my days in silence, petting you; something else had to be going on because I'd throw a tantrum if I was separated from you. F34; pretty similar to this one, but instead of you the family got Jasper. I'm... less tolerant in that one."

Brian didn't like what he heard, yet he was strangely curious; in none of those he had really died.

"What about timelines like this one but where I'm already gone?"

Stewie let out a dry chuckle because except for a handful, they boiled down to the same principle.

"There's the one where you made it big as a porno director and forgot about us. I hate you, after some time I start missing you, you ignore me when I try to get you back and..." stewie had to stop himself because the ending to that one was a bit too twisted.

"...and?"

"I want revenge. I'll just say your career is over, you end up in jail, and I'm forced to go to therapy."

Brian understood what he implied immediately. "Wow... how exactly did it happen?"

"Are you really asking me about kiddie porn?" Stewie inquired back in fake shock. As the canine tried to explain himself, the baby gave him the answer he wanted.

"I sent a portfolio of myself to your producer on your behalf with the tagline 'playing in the park, interracial gangbang?' and the rest is history."

"Jesus fuck!"

"Hey, to be honest, I looked better than anyone else on your cast."

They laugh hehe wee

"But well, in the ones you die for good I... often do as well."

Brian's head went to a really dark place the moment he heard that; he tried to find a different explanation for that occurrence.

"...accident?"

"No." Stewie's reply was rotund, and it seemed Brian's first guess was correct.

The atmosphere turned heavy yadda yadda, "My point is… maybe all those other Stewies and Brians worried too much, maybe they never got to say what they really meant to each other, never got to do… what they really wanted to, and I don't want that to happen to us." GAY SHIT and we don't need to change much, just… know you better. Like what you said about being a parent… I had no idea."

"You couldn't know…"

"But I do know. Do you feel better after sharing BLABLABLA"

"Yeah… I do. But only because it's you. I can't imagine anyone else paying attention to my sad stories."

STEWIE SAYING HE KILLED THE THERAPIST HERE?

"And now we know a new thing about each other… do you hate me?"

"No… I don't like the idea of you killing anyone/letting them die, but… I understand. It's morbid, but I understand. If I told any of what you know about me I… I might do the same, either them or me. Family, friends… they'd make fun of me."

"I can promise I won't tell anyone." LIKE TRUST EACH OTHER TO LET OUT STEAM AND SHIT

Stu like i know this is selfish, but i'm kinda glad you went on a pills bender. I had never seen you so... Exposed, and you're naked most of the time. That when the voice thing? Like we spend more time wondering what might happen in the future instead of doing what we want to in the present, worried about what others might think of us instead of being so we really are.

Yeah, but there are consequences to every action.

I know, but we agreed we're idiots; idiots don't worry about that, and i think we can afford to be idiots around each other. We could... Try to be honest about ourselves to each other when we can't be honest to ourselves.

That... Takes a lot of trust, stewie.

Please, as if that was a problem; just think, for example, about that time when you broke my time machine. I had to trust my life to you, and here we are now, aren't we?

Yeah... And that time in the bank, and our trips, and... God, we've been through so much.

Exactly; we're not perfect, we both falter from time to time, but when it really counts you're there for me.

So are you.

And i think... This time it really counts, brian. You... You are the best of every situation.

And you're a beacon of lucidity in this crazy world, stewie. Warm smile.

See? You really have a great writer in you. I love you, you idiot blablabla cute.

Cute Shit.

"We're a dog and a baby. People would love it if they saw us playing together."

Finish like stewie shows Brian around his lab? Sad ending? Real stewie was visiting that timeline, observing in the dark?

* * *

 **In the original version Stewie was gonna have a secret lab, for some reason.** **And it had references to Ricardo y Morticio; no precisamente buenas, y eso que es una serie que tolero, pero que se le dé ese estatus de culto por cuatro subnormaladas pseudoprofundas y que asome tanto el ego de los guionistas me echa para atrás. Stewie le pega mil vueltas a Rick como personaje y como científico/intelectual.** **There was gonna be a pickle machine that turned anyone who touched it into a pickle if their IQ was below 200. It make viewer go haha.**

 **And if you're still reading… are you okay?**


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